If You Wait
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'He isn't sure where she has gone, but it's obvious she wants to be alone. Or at least, without him. Until nearly a month into the summer when his phone chirps with a new message. From Kate Beckett.' Set during the summer after Beckett's shooting.
1. Chapter 1

The first text comes in three weeks after the day she turned him away in the hospital. He's spent each one since absolutely miserable, moping around his loft, failing at productivity, and frustrating his daughter. But he misses her, he's worried about her, can't escape the images of her bleeding out beneath him.

He gave up on trying to contact her after he managed to fill her voicemail box to maximum capacity, his text messages, even his emails, all going unanswered. He isn't sure where she has gone, but it's obvious she wants to be alone. Or at least, without him.

Until nearly a month into the summer when his phone chirps with a new message. From Kate Beckett.

 _Hey Castle._

His heart skips, his hands clamming up and the phone nearly slipping from his palm. But there's more.

 _You don't have to respond to this, I would completely understand, but I just wanted to check in, let you know not to worry. I also wanted to apologize. For just disappearing on you. It wasn't fair, but I had to get out of the city, had to try and heal away from everything, everyone… I hope you understand._

The message left little room for response, more of an update than an invitation for conversation, but it's his first chance to actually speak to her again. He isn't going to simply let it pass him by.

His fingers type out the words, a million different sentences, paragraphs, countless taps of his thumb to the 'delete' button.

 _I'm just glad you're okay._

It's all he can settle on, all that really matters, and he hits the send button with a heavy press of his thumb, knowing there will likely be no response to wait for. And he's right.

In the days that follow, Rick keeps his phone on him at all times, just in case. He wills the device to buzz with another message, spends too many minutes staring at the screen until his vision blurs, but it remains silent.

Her second message comes four days later at nearly midnight.

 _How have you been?_

Castle props himself up against the headboard, his pillow supporting his spine, and types out his response with a little less trouble than the last.

 _I've been better. What about you? Recovery going well?_

 _Depends on your definition of 'well'._

Despite their conversation being through words on a screen, he can hear the sarcasm in her reply, can picture the quirk of her brow and the lift of her gaze from below her lashes, rising up to meet his. The first hint of a smile in a month cracks the corners of his lips.

 _Considering the hour, I had a feeling it wasn't exactly ideal. Can't sleep?_

 _No._ The word arrives alone, but moments later, seconds he spends debating on what to say next, another bubble of text floats onto his screen. _I'm at my dad's cabin upstate. I thought it would be peaceful._

 _It's not?_

 _The quiet can be pretty unnerving._

He blames her honesty on the late hour, her courage to share with him on the fact that they aren't face to face, hiding behind the glow of screens instead.

 _You're welcome to call, Detective. I'm sure my sultry voice could soothe you into slumber._

He holds his breath, hoping humor was the right choice, but in their more serious moments, though few and often far between, the lighthearted teasing is often what lifts the darkness from her eyes.

 _Tempting. Maybe another night._

Castle grins, asks her about sleeping pills that were surely prescribed to her upon her discharge from the hospital, his lips falling into a frown when she goes into a brief explanation of how they only make things worse, putting her to sleep but allowing her no rest, leaving her feeling like a zombie the next day.

He asks about her dad, about the cabin, the lake and the woods she described. By two a.m., Kate's replies become shorter, the time in between longer, and he knows he will soon lose her to sleep.

 _Thank you, Castle. For the company._

 _Alw-_

He backspaces.

 _Anytime._

Yeah, that one is safer.

 _Until tomorrow?_

The phone remains silent. He forces himself into a fitful sleep, but when he wakes, it's to a new text message on his screen.

 _Morning, Castle._

After that, her texts are daily occurrences, their conversations ongoing. They talk about her dad, her physical therapy and the grueling process of healing, the breakup with Josh that took place when she was still laid up in the hospital bed. His heart skips pretty hard the day that particular message comes through.

He wants to know everything happening in her world while he isn't there, but she doesn't allow him to linger too long on the aspects of her life, forcing a balance to exist between them by inquiring about his family, his writing, his health ( _Are *you* okay, Castle?)._ He's always done a fine job of talking about himself, but he struggles now, has a hard time discussing the topics she broaches. None of them are necessarily going well. His Mother and Alexis are fine but weary whenever he's around, his writing is stilted and pained, he's okay.

Actually, that last one is something to be proud of. He's doing a lot better than he was after her shooting, feeling his heart heal a little more with each message that appears on his phone with her name attached.

The weight that took residence atop his chest, the grief of almost losing her and the misery of knowing that she is alive but not being able to see her, to speak or touch or possess the privilege of her presence, slowly begins to dissipate. He's regaining the ability to laugh, to smile and interact with his mother, his daughter, without shrouding them in his sorrow.

Alexis still isn't happy, her smiles purse-lipped and her frown prominent every time she notices the phone in his hand, but his mother openly supports his contact with Beckett, promises him Alexis will eventually come around. He tries to believe her, tries not to worry too much about the alternative.

 _Wish you were here._ She sends it two months into her recovery, a picture of the dock to the lake accompanying the text. His heart soars, exalts with delight at the words, flutters with amusement the next message elicits. It's another picture of the water, a closer shot, and he releases a huff of laughter. _So I could push you in._

 _You think you're strong enough to push me in, Beckett?_

 _That a challenge?_

 _Up to you. I'm more than happy to drive up and watch you try._

He's teasing her, banter still a frequent happening in their conversations, and he expects another smart remark, even a potential topic change – her usual diversion in the rare moments he's mentioned coming to see her.

But Kate isn't joking around when she texts him an address.

 _You're serious?_

Because he has to ask. He has to be sure, his heart still too fragile for him to show up only to be turned away yet again.

 _I'll see you soon, Castle._

She most certainly will. The moment her message comes in, the words comprehended, Castle is jerking up from his office chair, sprinting into his bedroom to change, grab a few essentials for this impromptu road trip. It's early afternoon and he technically could - probably _should_ \- wait until tomorrow, it's quite a drive to her father's cabin, but he can't wait anymore.

She's given him the green light to see her for the first time in over two months and the yearning that has been swelling in his chest for weeks now is overtaking his chest, threatening to combust inside him if he doesn't comply.

Alexis is out with Paige, having a girls' day that she's failed to indulge in for far too long, and his mother is… well, he isn't necessarily positive where his mother is. He leaves a note for both of them on the island, promises to call with a full explanation later this evening. And it's selfish of him, especially when he knows how deeply Alexis would disapprove of this, but he's grateful no one is home to talk him out of racing through the front door with his wallet, keys, and an extra pair of clothes. Just in case she really does manage to push him into her father's lake.

* * *

Beckett must have gathered from his lack of response that he was already on his way because when he finally pulls into the driveway of dirt and gravel, she's sitting on the front porch, her posture stiff, her face twisted into a grimace. But once he steps out of his car, starts towards her, he catches her eyes ripple with something he so badly wants to believe is delight.

He watches her chest expand with effort as she rises to stand, the pain dull but flaring in her eyes, bleeding into the lines of her face. It spills onto the concave planes of her cheeks, the sharpened slashes of her jawline. Just as battered as he remembered her, maybe even more so, but she's draped in sunlight this time and oh so beautiful.

Castle comes to a stop at the bottom step of the porch, his gaze sweeping up to the woman standing at the top, her body a brittle statue, threatening to collapse in the gentle breeze of the wind at any moment.

"You're alive," he blurts, because while they've been talking for over a month now, he hasn't truly been able to assure himself of her survival. He hasn't been able to convince himself that seeing her pull through the surgery that saved her life, ragged and breathing in the hospital bed, wasn't a dream, that the daily texts and brief talks on the phone he's been granted throughout the last month haven't just been a continuation of the fantasy.

It's a struggle, another visible effort she has to make, but her lips twitch in the corners, attempt to form a smile for him.

"Yeah, Castle, I'm still alive," she promises, biting her tentatively upturned bottom lip.

He climbs another step, flexes his fingers at his side to refrain from reaching for her. Even if Beckett _was_ a hugger, he would probably do damage, cause her more pain. He couldn't save her from the bullet, the least he can do is not interfere with her healing process. More than he already has, that is.

She watches him come closer, sweeps her eyes over him from head to toe.

"You look terrible."

He scoffs at that, watches that careful smile on her mouth bloom wider, blossom into a vibrant thing that has the potential to light up her whole face.

"You look beautiful," he states, taking another step, reaching the porch and standing level with her now. "Kinda terrible too, but strong."

Kate arches an eyebrow at him, her feet in flats, forcing her to tilt her chin to snag his gaze.

"Strong enough to shove you into a large body of water," she quips, surprising him and reaching up to smooth back the flop of hair from his forehead, brushing it into place with the soft comb of her fingertips. "Castle, I'm - I'm so sorry. For everything that's happened between my shooting and right now."

His lungs threaten to seize up, his tongue a dead weight in his mouth for a long second, and without thinking, Castle draws a hand up to the hollow space of her cheek. He fits his palm to the cavern of bone, watches in quiet astonishment when she doesn't panic, doesn't move.

Was it so obvious how brutal her absence has been on him?

"You needed time. I can… I can always give you that, Kate. Just maybe - don't shut me out completely?" he hedges, tracing his thumb along the edge of her cheekbone. "You're really hard to miss."

"You're not so easy either," she mumbles, her gaze fluttering to his chin, avoiding his eyes. "Why do you think I started texting you?"

"To stop me from overloading your voicemail box and bombarding you with weekly 'get well soon' messages?" he muses, feeling her cheek rise beneath his palm, but her head shakes, slow and careful so not to strain her chest.

"Checking in like that, I thought it was sweet," she admits, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. "I'm sorry it took me weeks to respond, I just-"

"Needed time," he repeats, understanding, better now than before. In one of their phone conversations, she confessed to his assumption that she has the nightmares, just like he so often does. How every second since Montgomery and the hangar and the cemetery still haunts her. Their ways of coping are different; Kate craved solitude, the chance to heal alone, in privacy, while he desired the company of others. And that's okay, he just hopes that someday they can find an in between.

"I'll still need time," she whispers, the fingers that grazed through his hair coiling in the fabric of the shirt at his side, the contact debilitating. "Time to heal, to process everything that happened that day, to be ready for it."

Kate Beckett has never been one to talk about things, an accusation he threw at her that night in her apartment, never one to address this… this thing between them. But she holds his eyes now, her own a bright, golden flecks illuminating her pupils like the sun overhead as she stares up at him. She looks hopeful, determined, willing him to understand that she-

Oh, she remembers. She's telling him that she remembers and she's not ready, but… but she can be?

Castle brushes his thumb to the papery thin skin beneath her eye, over the small beauty mark below the corner, hopes she can read his subtext as well as he thinks he's read hers.

"I'm good at waiting."

Kate releases a breath, one that sounds of relief, and steps into him. It causes his heart to falter once again, damn near close to malfunctioning, but she touches her forehead to the center of his clavicle, the hollow of his throat, and the simple touch envelopes him in a sense of peace he hasn't felt in too long.

"Can you stay?" she murmurs, her breath warm, the fringe of her lashes fluttering against his skin. "Stay a little while?"

Rick rests his chin atop her head, feels the last of the tension laced through her spine begin to slip away.

"I had at least intended to stick around until you made good on your challenge to push me into a lake, so yes," he answers, grinning at the spread of her lips against his shirt, the squeeze of her hand at his waist. "But I could be persuaded to stay longer."

"Mm, good. May take me a couple of days to build up the strength," Kate admits, her fingers unfurling from his shirt. They drift to curl at the arm leading up to his hand still draped at her cheek, drawing it down to tangle with hers. "In the meantime, I have coffee inside, leftovers my dad brought over last night."

"Have I told you that you're an amazing host, Beckett?"

She lifts her head from his chest, her lips still strung up in the corners, and tugs him back with her towards the front door of her dad's cabin. It's been months, but he falls into step with her with ease, follows her without hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

It's strange to have him here.

Of course, in the past two months, she's been able to picture Castle in her father's cabin, but it's surreal to actually witness him in every room while she shows him around - standing in the modest kitchen, sitting on the couch across from her, making her blush in her childhood bedroom. It's strange and intimate and she's surprised by how much she likes it.

She still can't believe she invited him to come here.

But she's glad she did. Her dad has finally started returning to the city for work, no longer so anxious to leave her alone, because she's doing better. She still aches, the pain fierce and crackling through her chest and breaching the cage of her ribs, but she's improved. She can walk around without getting so winded now, can do simple tasks for herself like cook, clean up, get her shirt over her head.

Castle told her she looked strong and she feels it, can feel the muscles that she feared were starting to wither awakening in her upper body, can feel her heart learning to beat without threatening to break, and can feel the stamina building through her physical therapy sessions.

She's finally started to feel like herself again. Maybe even a little better, braver.

And she used her newfound courage to invite Castle here on a good day. She had physical therapy earlier that morning, she'll be drifting to sleep early tonight, but tomorrow, her body will reap the positive effects of the training.

She'll totally be able to push him in the lake.

"Wow," Castle murmurs when she leads him outside at sunset. He arrived late in the afternoon, the drive from Manhattan eating up most of the day, and he looks exhausted. The orange glow of the disappearing sun highlights the violet streaks beneath his eyes, casts shadows across the sunken plains of his cheeks.

She wants to show him to her dad's bedroom, encourage him to finally get some sleep, but he's... he looks beautiful in the setting sun too, in awe of its final light rippling across the lake like Midas's touch, turning the water to gold.

"This has me wanting to buy a cabin in the woods," he remarks and something like pride sparks in her chest.

Her family's cabin is nice, comfortable, but nothing extravagant, not like what he's used to, and his approval of the place has her shifting a little closer to him. On the days she's entertained the idea of them, she's often wondered if they're just too different - different worlds, different lifestyles, different people that would never make any sense on paper - but moments like this… she forgets why she ever doubted him in the first place.

She forgets why she never called, why it took two months to be standing here with him.

"You okay?"

Kate tears her eyes from the ground, the flower tangled in the weeds at their feet, and returns her gaze to him. He's watching her, inquisitive but worrisome.

"Yeah, just - why buy one when you can stay here?"

She manages a shrug that doesn't hurt too much, but the casual gesture fails to lessen the impact of her words on him. It reminds her why she's so much better at texting with him when it comes to conversations like these, how nerve-wracking talking with him in person can so easily become.

The sun is disappearing below the horizon and Kate turns to head back inside, but he has the advantage of her slowed stride, doesn't let her get away so easily.

Castle catches her hand, careful not to tug on her but halting her retreat nonetheless.

"You're giving me an open invitation?" he inquires, arching an eyebrow. He's toeing the line between teasing and serious, seeing just how far she'll let him go before she shuts down on him, runs away.

But no, she's had her time. She's not healed, not completely, and she's still lacking some of the bravery she needs, but she can prove to him that she's grown, that she can be more.

"I'd have to check with my dad, but he likes you," she murmurs, smirking when both eyebrows hitch this time. "So I think there's a good chance you'd be welcome here whenever you want."

"I only want to be here when you are," he says, no longer teasing, only stating the obvious. As if the idea of being here otherwise makes no sense.

The skin of her throat heats, the sun brushing a final kiss to her skin, and she flexes her hand within the loose confines of his fingers. He misunderstands the movement, always misunderstanding because of her, and his hand begins to let her go.

"Castle," she sighs, keeping her now empty palm in the air where he left it, held out to him. He stares at it, confused, so she wiggles her fingers until he reclaims them. She tangles their hands like she initially wanted to, watches the understanding spread across his face.

"Sorry," he chuckles, tightening his grip on her fingers, twining them. "I just - I'm not sure how to do this with you."

Her brow furrows, but her heart flutters with nerves.

"Do what with me exactly?"

"Be… is this like a friendly handhold? Because I can be your friend, Beckett. Like I said earlier, I can wait, I just - I don't want to mess this up because it matters too much to me-"

"Rick," she interrupts, tugging on his hand to draw him closer. He shuffles to stand at her side, his lips pursed in anticipation, and shit, she used up most of her courage to get him here and now she barely has any left. But he deserves to hear where she stands, what she wants; he's waited so patiently for it, for her. "It matters to me too. You matter."

His chest deflates with an exhale. "Yeah?"

She rolls her eyes, but her fractured heart clenches.

"Yeah. Castle, I know I have a lot of work to put in. I wish it could be easier, that I could just dive in with you-"

"No," he murmurs, extricating his hand from hers to touch her cheek like he did on the porch. His palm is warm on her skin, cupping while his thumb skims the corner of her eye. "Kate, I don't want easy."

She bites her lip and looks up from the safe spot of his chin. He's serious but gentle staring back at her, his eyes a soothing shade of blue.

"I don't need to dive in either," he adds. "I'd rather we just dip our feet in together, graduate to wading, swimming. I want to go slow with you."

A shiver races down her spine and she sucks in a breath.

"Sometimes I feel like we're already in the deep end," she confesses, diverting her gaze to his chest, needing the avoidance. He's looking at her with too much in his eyes, everything he wants exposed there. "And I'm drowning us."

"Kate," he says her name again and it sounds so good coming from his mouth like this, in the quiet of the woods without the upset of an argument or the terror of her bleeding out beneath him. "We may have endured some rough waters together, but this is different. This is… today's the first time in months that I feel like I'm _not_ drowning."

Too much swells through her chest, the guilt for pushing him in and dragging him under a long time ago, the relief that he was able to keep his head above water anyway, the need to taste the resuscitation on his lips.

"Okay, if anything's going to drown you, it'll be this conversation. Enough water metaphors," he decides, his hand falling from her cheek. But it doesn't go far, skating down to curve along her nape. "I want you, Kate Beckett. I love you. That's all I need to know right now."

Her heart lurches and her empty hands grip the sides of his shirt to keep steady.

"As long as you're okay with both of those things-"

Kate sways forward, close enough to silence him with the proximity of her face in front of his. His eyes ripple like the lake, surprise and apprehension, that want he just spoke of lapping at his pupils.

"I'm okay with both of those things," she confirms with a quick sweep of her gaze to his mouth. "But I think we're past dipping our feet in."

She doesn't kiss him, knows better, but she does press her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

"I'm ready to swim, Castle."


	3. Chapter 3

He can't sleep.

Jim Beckett's room is a warm space, comfortable, and he should be able to find relaxation with ease, should be able to find sleep even easier. It's been so long since he's managed a full night of rest and he was so sure it would be an effortless task tonight when the source of his nightmares, the victim of their tragic ends, is sleeping in the next room.

But Castle lies awake in the bed, intermittently staring between the ceiling and the framed photos of the Beckett family on Jim's nightstand.

He can't stop thinking about the final rays of sunlight tangled in her hair before the dusk of evening claimed the sky, the heat of her breath so close to his mouth, and the words that stained his skin.

 _I'm ready to swim._

She pulled back shyly after that, allowed him the chance to say more, but all he could do was nod. He's trying really hard to be good, to be what's good _for_ her, but Kate could have told him she wanted to dive in headfirst tonight and he doesn't think he would have been able to deny her.

But he also thinks that this fragile thing between them means more to her than he would have imagined. She wants to handle his heart with just as much care as he does hers, doesn't want to break it with hasty hands.

She survived a bullet to her heart, he survived the blow to his; they have a second chance, he'll do whatever it takes to do this right.

Castle's phone buzzes on the unoccupied pillow next to him and he has to blink before he grabs the device, reminds himself that he's not back in his own bed, anticipating a text from Kate.

It's his daughter, letting him know that she and Paige made it home safely from the concert. She's staying the night at her best friend's, has no idea that he's not at the loft where she left him, and he's decided to hold off on telling her until tomorrow. No need to upset her while she's out having a good time.

He honestly doesn't _want_ to tell Alexis, is tempted to lie and say he drove up to the Hamptons instead and that he'll be back in a couple of days. But if he meant what he said to Kate just a few hours ago, if he's serious about pursuing anything with her, that means involving the most important person in his life.

Doesn't mean his daughter will make it easy.

Castle sighs, tells Alexis he loves her and that he'll see her soon. He may even arrive home before she does tomorrow, depending on what time he leaves here.

The thought of leaving causes his chest to tighten. He just got here, has made so much progress with Kate in just one day; he doesn't want it to disappear in his absence, doesn't want to leave her alone.

He drops the phone back to the pillow and scrubs a hand over his eyes. He doesn't want to overwhelm her with so many serious conversations in such a short period of time, but he'll have to ask Kate about this tomorrow, express his concerns to some extent and-

He feels her before he hears her. Her bare feet are silent on the wooden floors, her fingers deft on the door handle, but Castle's gaze flicks to the door anyway, cracked ever so slightly and exposing her peeking in from the other side.

She pushes it the rest of the way open when she realizes she's been caught.

"What are you doing up?" she whispers, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. Her hair is loose but strands are wet and clinging to her neck, her forehead, and her skin glistens in the darkness.

"Kate?" he murmurs, sitting up in the bed. "What's wrong?"

She slips inside the room, shaking her head. "Nothing, I just - wanted to check on you."

"Did you have a nightmare?" But he already knows the answer, already recognizes that wild look in her eyes. He's seen it inhabit his own many times in the past few weeks. "Come here."

"Castle, I'm-"

"If you don't, I'm just going to come to you," he points out, his lips quirking with victory as she huffs, shuffles the rest of the way towards him.

Kate takes a seat on the edge of her father's bed, next to his hip. Her eyes roam his face, stray to his chest, linger there, and he knows what she must have dreamt about.

"We've talked about this," he reminds her softly, still clearly able to recall her recounting of a nightmare, how vivid and real they still felt. "Nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed, I just…" He flips his palm up atop his thigh and she sighs, stares at it before she places her hand in the embrace of his. "It's not always flashbacks, not always me taking the bullet in the dreams. But I didn't think I'd see you die tonight when you're actually here."

"Subconsciouses are unpredictable. And pretty cruel."

The corner of her mouth twitches. "Why are you awake? It's two a.m."

"Alexis was out with a friend tonight. I was waiting to hear from her to know they made it back safe," he explains, not a lie. Not the whole truth.

"Alexis," Kate murmurs, as if testing his daughter's name out for the first time despite speaking it on the phone multiple times. "Do I… I should talk to her. I want to see her in person, but I'm not cleared to drive yet. Maybe we could meet somewhere between-"

"You want to talk to her? About... us?" he whispers, feeling his heart accelerate even as Kate's brow falls into a crease.

"Kinda have to," she grimaces, quickly covering it with an apologetic glance. "I know she's not happy with me, Castle. She watched you dive in front of a bullet for me, then watched me ignore you for a month, and I'm guessing she doesn't know you're here, does she?"

He hesitates, but she narrows her gaze on him. "Well, no-"

"If we're going to be anything, I can't have your kid hating me."

"She doesn't hate you," he argues, ignoring her baleful look. But it's true. Alexis used to admire Kate, he thinks she still does beneath the anger that is really directed at both of them, the upset and the fear. "More than anything, I think she's just afraid. She doesn't want me to die, doesn't want you to die either."

Kate nods, staring down at their clasped hands. "She doesn't want you to get your heart broken."

He doesn't respond to that, doesn't have anything to say to refute it. But he knows Kate isn't seeking his disagreement or his reassurance.

"You could just call her," he finally says, earning the hesitant rise of her gaze. "Might be a better way to ease into this."

"I'm going to be doing a lot of wading with you Castles, huh?"

He chokes on a laugh, watches her lips spread with a grin.

"It's looking that way," he chuckles, but she's still smiling, pulling her other leg up onto the bed to shift closer to him. "It'll be worth it. You're worth it."

"Shh, don't get sappy on me just because it's late, Castle," she murmurs, hiding that lovely smile from him by ducking her head to rest on his shoulder.

He almost startles, has to remind himself to remain still, relaxed. But it's the first time he's ever experienced the simple touch from her and it has his heart-

"Beating too fast," she finishes the thought, squeezing his hand, brushing her thumb over his racing pulse. "This too much?"

"No," he answers too quickly, but he doesn't want her to drift away. "Stay like this."

She curls into his side, arranging herself carefully, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. He doesn't dare let his hand too close to her ribs, where he assumes her incision scars lie, but he cups the round bone of her shoulder in his palm, strokes his thumb to the edge of her clavicle, and it's enough for tonight.

* * *

She wakes up plastered to Castle's side, a thin layer of sweat forming between her breasts, at the back of her neck, where the heat of his body burns through her.

Her scar is throbbing from the pressure, the excess warmth, her body stiff from lack of movement. Kate peels her eyes open, assesses the damage. He's propped up against the headboard like he was in the night when they fell asleep, slouched a little with his arm heavy around her shoulders. But she's rotated further into him, fit herself like a puzzle piece against his side with too many pieces aligning too perfectly. Her thigh is curled around his, their ribs slotted into place, and her cheek rests in the middle of his chest. His heartbeat is calm beneath her ear, almost enough to lull her back to sleep.

She wishes it would.

It's early, the light bleeding through her father's curtains still tentative, but her scars refuse to quiet.

She attempts to untangle from him, but Castle grunts, tightens the arm at her shoulders.

"Mm, Kate," he mumbles, sinking further down into the bed and taking her with him. "Stay in bed."

She huffs even though the husk in his voice causes her heart to stumble and skip, yearn for more. "Can't."

His eyebrows knit together and he turns his head towards her. She watches his eyes fight to open, squinting up at her.

"Why?"

"Because I'm - my scars hurt too much to stay like this," she admits, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth. She doesn't want to guilt him into letting her up, but she doesn't know how else to explain-

"Oh, 'kay," he yawns, withdrawing his arm from around her. She gingerly pushes up on her better side, watches in amusement as he rolls away from her and buries his face in his pillow.

It takes a few moments to brace herself, her rebelling body, to rise from bed each morning. She finds the appeal in witnessing him sleep while she waits for the knots in her chest to unfurl, extending her hand to brush her fingers through his hair. He rumbles at the sensation, purrs, and her lips curl into a smirk.

"Sleep well, Kitten," she whispers with one last scratch of her nails to his scalp.

"Yeah, love you."

Kate pauses, stalled out at the edge of the bed with her toes barely touching the floor.

It isn't the first time he's said it to her, not even in the last twenty-four hours, but the words still make her breath catch without fail.

She has to wait an extra minute for her heart to settle once more and then she leans over him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. She will eventually say it back to him, not just yet, but soon and while he's awake. In the meantime, she mouths the words against his skin.

"I love you too."


	4. Chapter 4

After Kate leaves him in the bedroom, she makes a fresh pot of coffee, lets it brew while she washes her face and plays with her hair a little longer than usual. She dresses in a pair of shorts and one of her favorite button down shirts, shifts critically in front of the bathroom mirror. She doubts Castle is concerned with how she looks right now and she tries to tell herself that the extra effort isn't for him, but there's no point in lying to herself anymore.

Recovering or not, she wants to feel as close to desirable as she can with a hole in her chest and a slice through her side.

She takes her coffee outside with her while the morning is cool and the ground is soft and sparkling with dew. There's a short trail through the woods in front of the cabin that she's fallen into the habit of walking each morning, running when she's feeling brave and a little reckless. It helps loosen up her muscles, gets her heart pumping without overwhelming it, and provides her mind with a blanket of calm that usually disappears overnight.

Her mind is at peace today, though, and her body doesn't take long to follow. Each step elicits a light stab through her sternum, but it's a pain she's grown accustomed to, hardly notices by the time she circles back to the front of the cabin twenty minutes later.

Just in time to see Castle emerging through the door.

He doesn't appear panicked, but he does look unsettled standing alone on her porch, his eyes seeking until they land on her. His chest expands beneath the t-shirt that hugs his upper body well, a tenuous smile tugging at his lips as she approaches.

"I just left you half an hour ago," she notes, clutching her half-empty mug to her chest and climbing the steps with care. His fingers twitch at his sides, eager to extend, but he refrains from holding out his hand to her. She wants to tell him she would have accepted the help. "Thought you'd still be sleeping."

Castle shrugs and pushes his hands into the pockets of her dad's flannel pants. He arrived with an extra pair of clothes, in case she really did push him into the lake, but no pajamas. They're a bit tight, but she doesn't think her dad would mind letting Castle borrow a pair of his. She certainly doesn't mind appreciating the way they fit.

"Wasn't as comfortable without you."

She bumps his shoulder on her shuffle to the front door he's left open. "Want coffee?"

"Yes," he affirms at her back, following her inside. "Is there a trail or something you walked?"

"Mhmm, it's short, helps with the stiffness. I usually walk it every morning." She sets her cup on the countertop and takes a shallow breath before opening a cabinet above her head to grab one for him. Her dad has rearranged practically everything in the cabin so she doesn't have to overextend herself, placing everything moveable within reach, but the shelf of mugs is still a challenge for her. Though, she really gave him no incentive to change that.

She's only been in need of a single mug since she was cleared for coffee again, no need to reach for more.

Kate snags her index finger around a ceramic handle, drags it to the edge until the she can draw it down.

"I could have helped with that," he chuckles as she sets it on the counter with a soft sigh of victory.

"I know," she murmurs, nodding to the fridge. "There's milk and creamer if you want any. Why were you asking about the trail?"

Castle turns to the fridge, tugs the door open.

"I was just hoping to do some exploring before I have to leave." Her finger tighten around the cup's handle. She hasn't even been thinking about the fact that he has to actually go back today, didn't think she would miss him before he's even gone. "Hey, Kate?"

She lifts her gaze to find him already standing beside her, that lopsided smile she's missed on his lips.

"I'll come back. As much or as little as you want," he promises and god, she wants to kiss him.

She wants that smile against her mouth and his hands in her hair, the heat of his body pressed to hers again. She takes the vanilla creamer from his grasp to distract herself, to flush the warmth from her skin with the shock of cold.

"I'll probably be here for another month," she murmurs, pouring the creamer, the coffee, snagging a spoon from the dish rack to stir.

"Would visiting once a week be too eager?"

Kate glances up, catches the hope hiding in his eyes and plucking at the corners of his mouth. He tries to disguise it with a neutral expression, but it prevails, has her own lips tugging into a small grin.

"No. I'd actually like that." She passes the coffee to him. "I can give you my therapy schedule before you go. I'm never good company on those days, just ask my dad."

"I'd take you at your worst, Beckett," he states around the rim of his mug. "Bet I could even make you smile after one of your grueling sessions with Frank."

"Challenge not accepted. Even Frank hates me after one of our sessions," she reminds him, because they've talked about her physical therapy before. He's even called her while she was still reeling in pain afterwards, distracted her long enough for the searing ache to fade without her noticing.

She may be convinced to reconsider.

"Well, I could never hate you. So I already have an advantage," he points out, but the truth of that statement twines around her heart like thorns.

After everything that has followed her shooting, everything that happened before, he _should_ hate her.

"I know." She drifts across the few feet of distance to stand in front of him. "We'll see about therapy days. In the meantime, want to go for a walk with me?"

Delight draws his brow upwards before it furrows once more. "I thought you already went."

Kate shrugs and reaches for his hand. "I want to go again. I feel good this morning."

* * *

The sun is rising in the sky, winking at them through the branches of trees and dancing across the exposed skin of Kate's cheeks, her neck and forearms. She spends a lot of time out here in the woods, by the lake, the evidence staining her skin gold.

He doesn't blame her. If he had all of this in his backyard, he doesn't think he would spend his days inside either.

The last time he asked, they were only halfway through the semicircle of a trail carved out through this part of the forest, but he's already so thoroughly mystified by this place. The embrace of the trees, the solitude of nothing but the surrounding foliage, the sounds of birds chirping overhead and the buzz of dragonflies all around. If he wasn't concerned about Kate's wounds and the risk of her over-exerting herself, he would ask if they could spend the entire morning out here.

It's too soon to mention it, to even be thinking about it, but he wants to invite her to the Hamptons again someday. If her draw to the lake is any indication, he knows she'll love the beach, appreciate the seclusion of his home and the expanse of property that would be hers to roam.

"What're you daydreaming about?"

Castle glances away from the glitter of sunlight through tree limbs, has to blink a few times to dispel the blurs of residual light that mar his vision.

"You in a bikini," he answers without missing a beat. She rolls her eyes at him, but they flicker with what looks like modesty that she fails to hide as her gaze turns to the ground.

"I'd retire that fantasy," she murmurs, continuing their leisurely pace through the faint path of dirt and grass that lies flat from her daily ventures.

He watches her for a moment, refusing to meet his gaze, studying the sway of wildflowers in the breeze instead. He considers whether or not he should just let it go, if trying to understand her comment would do more harm than good.

After too many minutes of his silent debating beside her, Kate spares him the decision.

"I don't think I'll be wearing a bikini anytime soon," she elaborates. "Isn't exactly a good look for me anymore."

For a second, he doesn't get it, because how could Kate Beckett in a bikini ever _not_ be a good look? But then her fingers rise to fiddle with a button of her shirt in the middle of her chest, over her scar-

He scoffs. "You seriously think that would change how hot I'm sure you look in a skimpy bathing suit? Kate, come on-"

"You haven't seen them," she mutters, crossing her arms low on her torso, beneath her breasts. He studies her for a few more steps, doesn't think he's ever seen her truly self-conscious like this.

"I don't need to. They aren't going to change anything," he states, downing the last of his coffee, grimacing at the cool slide of liquid down his throat. He hates cold coffee. "If anything, they'll just make you even more-"

"Don't say that," she snaps, stopping in the middle of the path. He comes to a halt beside her, opening his mouth to ask, but she beats him to it. "Don't tell me my scars are beautiful, that they make me beautiful, or any of that bullshit, because they're not. They're ugly reminders and I hate them."

He's surprised by her vehemence, the disgust in her voice aimed at her own body, by the spark it ignites in his own chest.

"Reminders of what? The fact that you survived? Of how strong you are? Because that's what they are to me."

"They're nothing to you," she growls, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You haven't even seen them, seen _me_."

"But I will." The statement startles through her gaze, subtle but spreading. The coffee cup hangs from his fingertips at his side, bumping his thigh as he steps closer on the slim strip of the trail they share. He expects her to move back or forge on ahead, but Kate keeps her feet planted to the ground with her jaw squared and her gaze steady. "God, Kate, when I see you…" He deliberately lets his eyes trail her body, caressing every curve, the long lines of her legs, lingering on her chest without shame, before returning his gaze to her face. His temperature is a few degrees hotter and her cheeks are pink against her will, but he meets her eyes. "I'm going to love every inch of you."

The first thing he notices is the ripple of her throat as she swallows, the uneven rise and fall of her chest, and the fire illuminating the darkness of her eyes as they fall to his mouth. He's already eliminated the distance between them, all she has to do is lean forward.

And then she's kissing him.


	5. Chapter 5

She knows better. Yesterday, they talked about waiting, about being ready and going slow, swimming. It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours since he got here and she just dove deep into a kiss with him.

For a heartbeat, he is still beneath the press of her lips and she expects him to reject her with kind words and understanding, more assurances about waiting and aquatic metaphors. But that beat of a moment passes and then Castle is kissing her back.

It evaporates any thoughts of swimming, has her catching on fire instead.

Kate lifts her hands to fist in the back of his t-shirt, to drag him closer, as close as her body will allow him to get. She hears the mug fall from his grasp, feels his hands slipping into her hair, fingers lacing through the strands. He isn't rough with her, aware of her injuries, the topic of conversation that started all of this, but he doesn't hold her like she's fragile either. He kisses her with the desire she saw in his eyes while they raked over her body, hot and needful and forcing her lips to part for breath.

His tongue slides inside with the oxygen, has her spine quivering with the urge to arch. She moans into his mouth, sinks against the wall of his body as she burns.

It's Castle who slows them, gentles the flames roaring through her blood with the languid stroke of his tongue, the caress of his lips over hers.

"Still think some scars are going to change how much I want you?" he pants, dropping his forehead to hers.

She has to get her breathing, her rabid heartbeat, under control before she can answer. "I just - just wish you could have seen me before."

She closes her eyes against his cheeks, feels the shame swelling hot with the arousal. But Castle cradles the back of her skull in his palms, skims his thumbs to the sensitive skin behind her ears, and sends a shudder down her spine.

"Wouldn't have worked as well then, wasn't ready. Either of us," he mumbles, his lips brushing along the bridge of her nose.

"You think we're ready now?" she murmurs, arching an eyebrow beneath his lips when they graze there next.

"More so now than we were then, but we're still going slow, Kate," he says as if he's reassuring her. "It's not like this isn't something we've done before."

Her eyes flutter open to seek his, her brow knitting severely, because what is he talking about? This is _all_ new, uncharted territory for them-

He has the audacity to laugh at her.

"I meant the kissing. It hasn't happened nearly enough, in my opinion, but I definitely haven't forgotten what it's like to kiss you."

Her entire upper body deflates with relief and she lowers her forehead to his shoulder, pinching his side when he continues to chuckle at her.

"Don't worry," he sighs around a final breath of amusement. He traces his palms down her back, dispelling any leftover tension formed there. "Still swimming in the shallow end, Kate."

* * *

They walk back to the cabin and she has to ask him to help her up the porch steps. She's okay, not in pain, not yet, but it's brewing beneath her ribs, threatening to unfurl and overcome her.

Castle wraps his arm around her waist for support, but doesn't try to carry her up the steps or take all of her weight. He lets her do it herself, leaning on him when she needs to, and releases her when they make it to the front door. She squeezes his arm in gratitude before curling her fingers around the handle.

Once they're inside, he insists on washing the mug he let tumble into the dirt, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He scrubs it thoroughly while she shuffles past him to the pantry. She needs to sit, recover the energy she's lost, but her stomach is angry and growling and she's sure his can't feel much differently.

"Hey, I passed a store coming here, do you want me to drive out and get breakfast?" she hears him call out over the running water.

She chews on her bottom lip, debating. Her dad stocked the place when he was here last week and she has enough to prepare something simple - eggs, pancakes, cereal. It's the energy she now lacks.

If she laid down for a little while, she would be fine, up to the task, but she hates to make him wait because she's too weak. But she also knows that if she defies the limits of her body, she'll end up standing shaking over the stove, her arms like jelly and her vision swirling with black spots. It's happened before, more than once, and it isn't something Castle needs to see.

She hears the water cut off, the fridge opening a few seconds later.

"Oh hey, you have actual food. I could just cook for us. How do you feel about omelettes?"

Kate steps out of the pantry at his offer, a perfect compromise, but pauses when she sees him. He's bent over, rummaging around in the fridge, still wearing her dad's pajama bottoms with his t-shirt from the day before - it's not a bad view.

"Omelettes sound good," she replies, watching him come away with a carton of eggs and the milk. He's wearing a smile too, as if the idea of cooking for her is just enough to make his day.

He cocks an eyebrow as he notices her position, propped against the door with her gaze on him.

"Katherine Beckett, are you _ogling_ me?"

She smirks, no point in hiding it. "Yes."

He gasps, looking far too delighted with the confession.

"Feel free to continue. It's been two months, I'm sure you've been feeling deprived."

She scoffs, but her lips are curling up in the corners, the laughter edging out the ache in her chest. She forgot how good he is at this, pulling smiles from her with such ease, causing the laughter to climb her throat.

He's right, she has been feeling deprived.

Kate pushes off from the pantry's doorway, drifts closer to him in the kitchen. He's retrieving a pan from the cabinet, a bowl to whisk the eggs in, and if she wasn't hindered by the drag of her injury, she thinks she would have been able to sneak up on him, trap him in the corner of countertops.

She still manages the latter, coming up beside him and stealing his attention from cracking eggs. She should go sit down, but it's almost annoying how close she wants to be, how magnetic he's become now that she's stopped ignoring the pull. Castle abandons the task of breakfast to shift towards her, looking equal parts amused and pleased by the lack of space.

After two months, she really doesn't want any more space right now.

"Can't exactly be deprived from what I haven't had," she murmurs, watching the blues of his eyes flirt with darkness.

He doesn't object to the tentative touch of her hands at his hips, but his are like birds at his sides, fingers fluttering and uncertain. She wants them to perch on her bones, soar along her body, but she wonders once more if she should even be tempting him to take flight. Kissing him in the woods was probably a mistake, a stroke too deep through these unfamiliar waters of their relationship, but she can't regret it, can't stop wanting more.

"Are you sure we aren't deeper than the shallow end, Castle?"

He swallows and her eyes are riveted to the movement of his adam's apple.

"I think… I'm deeper than the shallow end, waiting for you to swim out to me."

"Waiting," she repeats, feeling so mournful over it already. Waiting is the right thing to do, the smart thing, the more beneficial option for them both. But does it have to be so damn miserable?

Kate stares at her hands, hanging loosely at the bones of his hips. He's slimmed down since she saw him last, muscle more prominent, but his bones also sharper. Exercising but not eating enough, a habit she's often guilty of.

She flares her hands at his waist, covers those points of bones in her palms.

"Kissing is more than shallow," she decides, keeping her eyes low. "That was deeper."

"Than you're ready for," he finishes, but she shakes her head.

"Castle, I have a lot to move past, to deal with, and I may not be exactly who I want to be right now, I know I won't be until everything involving my mother's case is put to rest," she huffs, frustrated with herself. She's trying to do this right, do it differently, but it feels all wrong. "But I think we'll both sink if we spend all our time on opposite sides."

She risks a glance up at him, relief trickling through her chest at the hope in his eyes. She expected disappointment, reflected frustration.

"Then swim out to me from time to time, Beckett," he murmurs, like it's no big deal. His hands finally land on her arms, his thumbs stroking the curves of her biceps. "Like you did this morning."

The weight like an anchor around her heart releases, lets the muscle float through her chest.

"Until you're ready, until we're both strong enough to swim in the deep end together, just swim out to me. I won't let us sink."

From anyone else, the words would sound like nothing more than pretty reassurances, promises she could pretend to believe. From Castle, they actually mean something; they're trustworthy.

She lifts on the toes of her ballet flats, slower this time, like a wave rising to meet him and giving him the chance to back away. One of his hands leaves her arm to cradle her cheek, soft like the brush of her mouth to his. She sighs into his kiss, doesn't try to deepen it. It's good like this, the gentle pressure of his lips on hers, sparking frissons of electricity that she yearns to intensify. But the crackles of pleasure zipping through her veins are enough to tide her over.

Kate descends back to the soles of her shoes, steals her hands beneath his shirt to splay her palms at his back. His chest rumbles with approval at the touch and his body crowds hers, a knee slipping between her legs and their hips grazing. The warmth of his skin is both maddening and soothing, spreading, and she lets it fuse from his flesh to hers as she leans back against the countertop, lets him tower over her.

"I love you," he whispers against her lips, hooking in her chest and reeling it to throb against her ribs. "That's not going to change in the time it takes you to say it back."

Her lips part on an empty breath, no words good enough for him. Except maybe the ones she's not yet ready to say.

But Castle doesn't seem to mind, the corners of his mouth upturned as it drapes over hers once more. Kate hums, lets the sensation of him kissing her wash everything else away.

So much so that she barely registers the creak of the front door easing open, the pad of footsteps she should recognize. It's the stiffening of Castle's spine beneath her hands that has the realization flushing through her like cold water.

Her heart pounds for an entirely different reason then. She hastily pulls away from Rick, bumping her back into the counter's edge. Kate grunts with the stab it sends through her incision scar. Castle's hand immediately hovers over the spot, as if he already knows where it is, but she's too busy glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge it.

Her dad is standing in the cabin doorway.


	6. Chapter 6

"Katie," her father addresses Kate with a quirk of his brow before his gaze strays to Castle. "And Rick."

Castle holds his breath and takes a step back, away from Kate. He likes Jim Beckett and Kate said just yesterday that Jim likes him, but that doesn't change the fact that her dad just caught them making out in their family kitchen. Well, not necessarily _making out_ _,_ but Kate's hand was up his shirt and he's pretty sure their lips were still touching when her dad walked in.

All more than he wants Jim Beckett to see.

Kate clears her throat. "Dad, I didn't know you were coming by today."

Castle swears there's a smirk twitching in the corners of Jim Beckett's mouth.

"I hadn't planned to, but I texted you this morning, called when you didn't answer. I got worried," her father explains, flicking his eyes between the two of them. "I see now that there was no reason for it."

Kate winces, seems to miss that last statement while Rick remains hung up on it.

 _She cares about you, Rick. And unless you're a lot dumber than you look, I know you care about her. Don't let her throw her life away._

Amidst all of the madness that followed that conversation with her father, Castle almost forgot the privilege Jim Beckett has already bestowed upon him. The trust he has in Rick when it comes to Kate's life.

"I left my phone in my room," Kate sighs.

Her father's eyebrows hitch and - oh god.

"Also, good to see you, Rick. I wasn't aware that you and Katie were… well-"

"We aren't. We didn't - I mean-" Castle huffs and scrubs a hand over his face. "I just came by for the first time to see Kate yesterday. The drive took up most of the day, so she let me stay the night. In a separate room, sir."

Her dad is biting back laughter in the same way Kate often does, pursing his lips and squaring his jaw.

"I didn't ask."

He thinks Jim Beckett takes great pleasure in screwing with him.

"You were not asking very loudly, Dad," Kate mutters, but she's smiling too, easing past Rick with a pat of her hand to his side.

He watches her cross the kitchen to embrace her father, huffing as he chuckles something into her hair. When Jim lets her go, Rick steps forward to shake the man's hand, but her father tugs him into a quick embrace.

"I meant it, son," he murmurs, releasing Rick with a squeeze to his shoulder. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, sir," Castle replies with a smile that forms on its own accord, because her father looks as sincere as he sounds.

"Jim," he corrects, glancing to the contents on the counter. "Making breakfast?"

"Omelettes," Castle confirms, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks. He _was_ making breakfast, he was trying to be good, he just got distracted. "I can cook for three."

Jim waves him off. "Thanks, but I already ate. I can help, though."

"That'd be great." He catches Kate's gaze, soft and flickering between him and her father. She looks relieved, approving, and happy.

"All right, just tell me what you want done and, Katie, go sit," Jim instructs, surely able to see what Rick does - the stiff set to her posture, the pinched corners of her eyes, the pain spilling into her features. Yeah, she needs to sit.

"Fine," she murmurs, starting for the couch, but there's a smile teasing at her lips.

"Oh, and Rick?" He turns at her dad's call, follows his line of sight to Castle's legs. "Nice pants."

* * *

She has a book on the coffee table, but she fails to reach for it. Once she's situated on the couch in a position that sets her scars at ease, she leans back into the arm of furniture and simply listens. Her dad and Rick both have soothing voices, even as they discuss ingredients and serving sizes. She drifts as the conversation shifts from breakfast food to the lake, to fishing and summers from her childhood spent here.

She isn't sure how much time passes, only that she doesn't mind the waiting. She feels safe like this, at peace with two of the people she loves most chatting in the kitchen. So much so, that she doesn't even linger on how Castle has so easily slipped into sharing the same level of importance as her father.

"Katie?" She blinks, emerging from the light haze of slumber to see her dad standing at the head of the sofa. "You awake, honey?"

"Yeah," she nods, inhaling a deep breath before trying to sit up. "You guys are done already?"

"Yep, Rick's a good cook."

Her dad offers her a wink that has her eyes rolling and her chest feeling pleasantly light. She wasn't lying when she told Rick that her dad liked him, but this is one of the few times she's been able to actually witness their interaction and have the knowledge reaffirmed.

When she rises from the couch, Castle is already at their quaint kitchen table, arranging plates and silverware and smiling at her.

"Did you change?" she asks, noticing his new attire of shorts and a fresh shirt he must have brought with him.

Her dad rumbles with a huff of laughter. Castle blushes and slides into his seat, bashful and boyish and pretty adorable. Kate passes him while her dad is pouring himself a cup of coffee, brushes her knuckles to his shoulder.

She eases into the chair across from him, meets his arched eyebrow with a quirk of her lips. The brief touches, the intimate graze of fingers, is almost more unnerving than the kiss they shared in the woods. The want for him isn't something new, always existing to some capacity; the first time they kissed was fire, explosive and over all too soon, exactly what she would have expected. But this? This foreign urge to touch solely for the sake of touching, the swell of affection when she looks at him, throws her completely off balance.

She's used to the sweep of flames, not so much the slow burn.

"Eat your breakfast, Kate," he murmurs before her dad can join them at the table. She picks up her fork, cuts into the mouthwatering meal he and her dad prepared.

She already knew, of course, but her dad was right - Castle is a good cook and she hums around her first bite of his omelette.

"Castle, this is amazing," she mumbles, swallowing the mouthful of eggs, cheese, and tomato.

She glances up to catch him beaming with pride, fork in hand, but attention solely on her.

"When we go back, you have to let me make you a basil and goat cheese one. Alexis says they're my best."

 _When we go back_ and the mention of Alexis in one sentence are enough to terrify her, but she tamps the fear down in favor of relishing the joy in his eyes. They're having too good of a morning for her to ruin it with unnecessary panic.

"Speaking of, how long are you staying, son?" her dad inquires from the head of the table. "You're welcome to my room as long as you'd like."

Rick looks touched by the sentiment, but the smile on his lips is rueful.

"Thank you, Jim. I wish I could stay longer, but I'm actually leaving in a couple of hours." Castle looks to her across the table. "But I plan to come back next week and maybe I can stay a little longer then."

The table is small, short in width, and she barely has to stretch her leg to reach his foot with hers beneath it. She lifts her fork to her lips, grinning around a mouthful of eggs as he blinks.

 _I'm not sure how to do this with you._

He hooks his ankle around hers, learning.

"Yeah, because next time, you're going in the lake, Castle." She smirks at him, watches the thrill of it ripple through his gaze.

"Eager to see you try, Beckett."


	7. Chapter 7

Rick remains at the cabin until nearly noon. Jim leaves not long after their breakfast, kissing Kate on the head and reminding her to keep her phone nearby, check in with him so he doesn't have to show up unannounced. He squeezes Castle's hand before he goes, promises he owes Rick a fishing trip before summer's end. Rick's surprised by how much he's looking forward to it.

He spends the rest of the morning outside with Kate.

"I could just call Alexis and explain that I-"

"No, Castle," she argues, sitting beside him on the dock. Their feet are submerged in the water, a necessary contrast to the unforgiving heat of the sun and thickness of humidity in the air. There's a light breeze that plays with her hair, gathering it from her shoulders, sweeping it across her cheeks and onto his. "She needs to hear it from you in person, needs you to be there when she gets home."

He sighs, because he knows she's right and he loves her even more for it, for caring so much about his daughter's feelings, for valuing them higher than her own.

"It feels like I've been here longer than a day," he murmurs, swaying his feet back and forth in the water as it laps at his ankles.

"It was a really eventful day," she points out with a quirk of her lips. "Sorry my dad walked in on us."

He laughs, shakes his head. "Lesson learned."

"What lesson?" she murmurs, turning her head to meet his gaze with the laughter in hers. The sun is shining at her side, glowing over her shoulder and illuminating the streaks of gold in her hair. His heart lurches with the urge to touch her, the thrill that he's allowed to do that now.

"Only make out with you behind closed doors."

Her grin grows and she ducks her head, hides behind those gossamer waves of hair.

"That was hardly making out, but good point," she chuckles, sparing him a sideways glance that is both sweet and sly, has him wanting to kiss her all over again. But he doesn't want to risk pushing too far, swimming too deep, especially with all the water they've already treaded today.

"I'm actually really glad he came by."

Her foot collides with his in the water. "Told you he liked you."

"Yeah, but that was when he thought we were just friends." He watches the corner of her mouth twitch, not necessarily a smile this time.

"We were never just friends," she sighs, casting her gaze out to the waves. "I think even he knew that."

"I may have wanted to be more than friends with you, but that doesn't take away from the fact that we built a real friendship over the past three years, Beckett. Everyone just saw something more before we did."

She scoffs, stares at her knees. "Castle, I'm the only one who _didn't_ see it."

"Okay, fine, I had hope that we'd be together to some extent since the day we met, but it definitely strengthened from wanting to get into your pants to falling in love with you over time."

She chokes on another piece of laughter, just like he wanted her to, and leans into his side. The air is hot and the warmth of her cheek sears through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but he doesn't want to move.

"I don't believe you were blind to my charms either. I kinda think you knew after we kissed for the first time that you were doomed too," he muses, dropping his cheek to the top of her head.

"Pushing it," she warns, but the hum of mirth is still laced through her words.

He doesn't say anything else, but the smile doesn't leave his lips as he presses it to her crown and lets the heat of her touch and the sun soak through him.

* * *

Castle tosses his clothes from yesterday into the backseat of his Mercedes (because, of course, he drove his _Mercedes_ out to her father's cabin in the woods) and stops in front of the driver's side door. She doesn't want a prolonged goodbye, doesn't really want a goodbye at all. But definitely not one that hurts.

Kate hands him a slip of paper with her weekly therapy schedule on it, watches his lips quirk.

"I'll see you next week on a day that isn't Monday, Wednesday, or Friday," he promises, folding the paper into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

"Or just come in the evening like you did yesterday, stay the night," she suggests with a shrug of her shoulder. "Bring pajamas next time."

He smirks. "And a bathing suit?"

Kate grins and drifts closer to him, but refrains from reaching out. "Yeah."

She diverts her gaze to the toes of her shoes in the gravel. They're stalling, prolonging, and she sucks in a breath, looks up to him, ready to put a stop to it.

"Tell me how it goes with Alexis?"

"Of course," he murmurs, the expression of his face growing serious. The longing is already leaching through his eyes, his lips forming around the words. "I don't want to go."

"Castle," she huffs, finally closing the distance between them and snagging his hands with hers. Their fingers lace and he watches the collision of their palms. "Kiss me."

His gaze flashes back to her face and he leans in without question, squeezes her hands and strokes his thumbs along her knuckles as his lips press against hers. His mouth is always so attentive, tending to hers with reverence before he sucks her bottom lip inside, caresses with his tongue.

She kisses him back until she's breathless, until the need for air finally wins out over the need for him.

"Now go home," she breathes, lifting one of her hands to his cheeks. She can't keep her arms up for long periods of time yet, her bullet wound always quick to protest the movement, but she strokes his jaw with the graze of her fingertips while she can.

He pouts. "I miss you already."

She scratches her nails through the light layer of stubble smattered along his cheek. "You'll see me in a week, don't be so dramatic."

"Fine," he sighs, turning his head to smear a kiss to his palm before she lets him go.

Kate steps back while he curls his hand around the door handle, hesitating for only a moment before sliding into the driver's seat. He starts the car, rolls the window down, and looks up at her with a tentative smile.

"I'll see you?" he says over the low rumble of the engine, but she can still hear the question in it.

Kate nods, bands her arms loosely at her stomach. "Yes, and Castle? Text me when you're home safe."

His smile gains a little more confidence. "Will do."

She watches him back out of the driveway, swallowed up by the shield of trees, and descends to sit on the top step of the porch. After her dad left, she grabbed her phone from the bedroom, slid it into the pocket of her shorts so she wouldn't forget. She withdraws it now, cradles it in her palms, and pulls up his contact information. Her thumb brushes the photo of him, an impersonal shot from one of his books. She makes a mental note to replace it.

She wants a picture of him smiling up with that lopsided grin he only wears for her, that bright blue gleam in his eyes that have been shining all morning. She wants a picture of the way he looks when he's so openly in love with her.

* * *

Castle arrives back in the city in the middle of the afternoon, relieved to finally be off the highway. The drive wasn't bad, traffic bearable, but the amount of daydreaming he indulged in while behind the wheel couldn't be considered safe.

But he can't manage to rid the thoughts of her, the memory of her smile and the bliss of having it pressed against his, from his mind.

Rick parks his car in his building's garage and snags his clothes from the backseat before getting out. He hangs the shirt and pants over his arm while he heads for the elevator, digs his phone from his pocket along the way.

His heart skips at the notification of a message from Kate.

 _I already miss you too._

He smiles like an idiot and nearly runs into the elevator door. Pressing the button, he leans against the wall to text her back, letting her know that he's back at the loft while the lift ascends to his floor. He returns the phone to his pocket, not expecting a response, but still grinning too wide when the doors part for him.

Rick strolls down the hall to his door, fishing the keys from his pocket and planning the rest of the day in his head. Once he's inside and settled, he'll cook something delicious for Alexis, a snack to tide her over until dinner, a distraction to have during their impending conversation.

An anxious flutter skitters through his stomach, but he unlocks the door, inhales past it. His daughter is protective of him, of his heart and his happiness; she always has been. She doesn't want him hurt and she knows that the person who has the power to hurt him most is also the person he's in love with.

But he wants the chance to explain that Kate is capable of so much more than heartbreak, that she brings him such a rare form of happiness and makes any previous sorrows worth it.

Rick steps inside the loft and is immediately aware that he's not alone. The air is alive with movement, a noise echoes from the kitchen-

"Dad?" His heart eases as Alexis wastes no time poking her head out from behind the refrigerator door, her brow already knit with questions. His nerves return with a vengeance, but Alexis merely greets him with a smile. "Hey, where were you? I've already been home for half an hour."

Alexis shuts the refrigerator door and steps out of the kitchen to approach him in the foyer and, for one of the few times in his life, he has to scramble for the right words. But her gaze falls to the clothes on his arm before he can even try.

Her face scrunches with subtle disgust. "Oh."

"Alexis, hold on," he starts, needing to slow this down before it spirals even further out of his control.

"I didn't realize you were seeing someone," she murmurs, her eyes still trained on his clothes from yesterday.

"I'm not - well, I wasn't," he sputters and her eyebrows arch with what looks like intrigue.

"But you are now?" she inquires, her eyes flickering back to him.

Castle hesitates, but well…

"I am, but-"

"Is it serious? Or are you doing a walk of shame that Gram would be proud of?"

He huffs, but at least there's a hint of humor twitching at the corner of his daughter's mouth.

"It's not like that. At all. And it's very serious, she's... very serious to me," he murmurs, his heart clenching with the truth of the statement.

It drops a moment later.

Any trace of amusement, of teasing, disappears from Alexis's face and her eyes flash with knowledge.

"You were with Beckett, weren't you?"


	8. Chapter 8

He hates the disappointment on his daughter's face, the disapproval. But he won't be shamed for this, won't be reprimanded when he's done nothing wrong. Especially by his kid, not this time.

They've argued about this enough.

"I went to visit Kate, yes," he confirms. Alexis's frown deepens.

"Did she invite you?"

His brow furrows a little at the question. "Yeah, she invited me yesterday, but I got there late. It's why I stayed the night," he explains, feeling a little silly that he has to, but he wants Alexis to realize that this is different than any other relationship he's had, than any other woman he's been with. This isn't a fling or another relationship destined to end because he's got one foot out the door.

Kate is different and he's all in.

"So the last two months that she spent ignoring you suddenly don't matter anymore?" she challenges.

"We've been talking for the past month, Alexis," he corrects softly, patiently, but she rolls her eyes.

"And a few text messages, some phone calls, are just supposed to fix everything?"

"No, everything isn't fixed," he relents. "But we're working on it. She's wants to put in the work. She, uh, actually wants to talk to you too."

That knocks her a little off balance, her eyes sparking with surprise, suspicion. "Why?"

Castle shrugs, pretends he doesn't know, but really, he doesn't know much at all when it comes to what Kate plans to say to his daughter.

"She just said that if she's going to have anything with me, she can't have you hating her," he quotes bluntly, noticing the flush of red through Alexis's cheeks. "She's been pretty concerned about your feelings in all of this."

He can tell she doesn't want to, but Alexis softens just slightly at that, purses her lips to hide it.

"How do you know she won't just hurt you again? That everything won't go back to the way it was once she's better, once she comes back?" Alexis asks, voicing all of his current fears.

But Castle sighs. "I don't. I don't know any of those things for sure." He shrugs, resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets under his daughter's scrutiny and stands tall instead. "All I know is - how she looked at me over the last twenty-four hours and how everything she said… I believed. That I trust her."

Alexis swallows. "Does she love you?"

The thought of Kate Beckett loving him sends an instinctive rush of butterflies through his system.

"I - I think she does, but I don't want to rush this and neither does she. So I'm willing to take the time to find out."

Alexis nods, seems to be reluctantly accepting his truth. "Does she make you happy?"

That one, he doesn't have to think about.

"Yeah, she does."

"Is it enough?" Alexis inches a little closer to him, her eyebrows lifting expectantly.

"It's enough for now."

His daughter steps forward to hug him, hiding her face in his chest and exhaling against him.

"Okay," she whispers, squeezing her arms around his waist. Castle hugs her back, feels his heart exalt in relief. That went so much better than he thought it would. "As long as you're happy, I can be happy with you. Just - be careful, Dad."

"Pumpkin," he murmurs, cupping the back of her head in his large palm. But she shakes off his hand, looks up at him with those bright blue eyes that are suddenly so childlike all over again.

"I don't… _hate_ Beckett," she confesses, dropping her cheek back to his chest, muffling her words. "I don't even hate the idea of you guys together, it's just… you were standing right next to her. You dove _in front of a bullet_ for her. You could have been shot, killed, and I can't - Daddy, I-"

"Alexis," he shushes, rocking back and forth with her in his arms.

They've discussed all of this before, fought over the fact that he's a writer, not a cop, that he needs to 'grow up' and 'stop pretending', that Kate isn't worth dying for. He stormed out during that one. But he understands his daughter's fears, hates himself for instilling them in her, for dragging her into this world of conspiracy and gunfire with him. She should be thinking about college and boys - as much as he hates that too - not death, not losing her parent. He knows that giving up Kate could solve a lot of his daughter's problems, probably some of his own, but he just… he loved her too much then and the idea of letting her go is even more unfathomable now.

"It's going to be okay," he promises her, but the words no longer feel so empty. He can actually put some belief in them. "For all of us."

Alexis sniffles, remains huddled against him for a few more minutes. Castle props his chin atop her head, content to stay for as long as she needs.

"Does she really think I hate her?"

He exhales, some of the tension draining from his spine, and sucks in another breath before he answers. "I think she feels responsible for everything that happened that day, everything that's happened since."

Alexis sighs. "When is she going to call?"

"Whenever you're ready to talk," he shrugs, another wave of relief washing through his insides, because he gets to call Kate with good news tonight.

"When are you going to see her again?" Alexis dislodges her head from beneath his chin to glance up at him, rolling her eyes at the arch of his brow. "Oh, come on, I know you're going back soon."

He huffs, but squeezes her shoulders with gratitude to see the hint of a grin on her lips. "Probably next week."

"Is she… okay?" Genuine concern ripples through Alexis's eyes, a glimpse of worry. Despite her fleeting but strong dislike for Beckett over the past few months, he thinks his daughter has always worried.

"I think she's in pain more often than she lets on," he admits, remembering the winces that would cross her features when she thought he wasn't looking. The concealed flashes of pain weren't as prominent as the hidden smiles, though. Huh. Now that he's thinking about it, he doesn't believe he's seen her smile as much as in the past three years as he did in the last twenty-four hours. His heart does a clumsy flip in his chest, stumbles against his ribs and upsets the butterflies nesting there. "But she's healing."

* * *

They text through the days that follow his departure from the cabin, but Kate forces herself to wait at least three until she asks him.

 _When are you coming back?_

She chews on her bottom lip while she awaits his response, curled up on her side in her bed with the phone lighting up the room. It's late, but he's been texting her since he finished dinner with Alexis a few hours ago and they both seem wide awake tonight.

 _Missing me that bad, huh, Beckett?_

Kate rolls her eyes, but her lips curl.

 _You're better company than the crickets._

One chirps loudly outside her window, as if to spite her. But she does miss him and she feels pathetic for it.

She thought that texting him, talking on the phone, would be more than enough to keep her company in his absence. They've actually been talking more, especially since he called her the night he returned to his loft in the city and told her how his conversation with Alexis went.

"She's okay with it," was his greeting when she picked up the phone. "It started off kinda rough, but she listened and it just - it went good, Kate."

It felt ridiculous, like getting permission from a parent to date at thirty years old, but she won't deny the way her chest expanded with the weight of Alexis's disapproval gone.

Kate called his daughter the next night, not wanting to seem too eager, pushy, but not wanting too much time to pass either. Their conversation wasn't long, wasn't exactly comfortable either, but Alexis allowed her the chance to say her piece, listening, and replying with her own.

"You make my dad happy, you always have," his daughter stated. "But you can do the opposite just as easily."

"I know," Kate conceded, and she does. Far better now than she did then. No one has ever loved her as much as Castle does, so much so that he's practically placed the fragile thing that is his heart in her hands. She's already dropped it, scuffed it up too many times, but he keeps returning it to her palms. She's trying to be better with it this time, trying to be gentler with one of the most important things in her life. "He does the same for me and I don't - I don't want to hurt him. Again."

"That's all I ask," Alexis replied, but his daughter sounded so reluctant, cold. Kate just wanted to convince her, melt some of that ice.

"Alexis? I'm… serious about this, him," she attempted to explain, tucked into the corner of the couch that night with a throw pillow clutched to her throbbing chest. Because Alexis has to know that it isn't a game, that it's real. "And I'm going to do this right."

"More serious than your mom's case?"

She was relieved to not be face to face with his daughter then, because hers startled with surprise.

"Listen, I'm not trying to be out of line," Alexis added on a sigh. "But isn't that what it always comes down to? Won't you always have to choose between it and him? I mean, what if they come after you again? They'll come after him? They'll kill you _both_."

Kate closed her eyes. "I won't let that-"

"Kate, they shot you in the chest," Alexis hissed and her bullet wound stung with the reminder. "You can't stop that."

"No," she whispered, sinking a little deeper into the sofa. "I can't. Honestly, Alexis, this case has controlled so much of my life, I… sometimes I wonder who I would be without it." She took a moment to swallow, stare out into the intimidating blackness of night outside the sliding glass door. On nights like that one, while she was on the phone with Alexis, she felt like the dark was on the verge of swallowing her whole. "I haven't been keeping up with it during my recovery, I don't know exactly what it'll be like when I go back to work, if I'll even have any leads to go back to. But the point I'm trying to make is that I - when I'm with your dad, I feel more like the person I want to be."

The other end of the line remained quiet, but her heart, the heart she just laid out for his daughter to see, was beating too loud to notice.

"My mother deserves justice, I will never stop seeking that," she admitted, no shame in it. "But I don't want to die, I don't want your dad to die, and if it came down to it, I would choose him. Choose whatever it takes to keep him safe."

Her jaw squared, mostly for the sake of stopping the irrational tears, but it felt like both grief and alleviation at once to reveal a truth she herself wasn't even aware of.

She would choose him.

"Okay," Alexis whispered, the chill completely gone from her voice. "That's - really good to hear. I'm… thank you, Kate. For telling me all of that."

Kate breathed a sigh of relief and finally felt the rigid set of her bones begin to loosen.

"Thank you for listening."

She thinks that Alexis must have shown him her true approval after that, because Castle has been especially giddy ever since.

Her phone buzzes in her palm.

 _What about this weekend?_

She forces herself to wait at least sixty seconds before responding.

 _See you in two days._


	9. Chapter 9

He leaves early this time, rising with the sun and organizing a platter of fruit for Alexis to have with her breakfast. He let her know about his plans for the weekend trip the morning after he confirmed them with Kate, still infinitely relieved by his daughter's nod of acceptance, the smile she gave along with the offer to help him pack a bag.

He isn't sure what was said during the phone call between her and Kate, but whatever it was seems to have cured Alexis of most, if not all, of her doubts.

It'll be a couple of hours before she wakes, but Alexis is leaving not long after he does, her slim suitcase and a tote bag already propped by the front door. A small group of her friends are in the Hamptons for the weekend and Castle encouraged her to join them, more comfortable with the idea of his daughter surrounded by people she knows - all of whom Ryan has done background checks on in the past - than leaving her alone in the loft for two days. She may have given her approval, but that doesn't mean he wants Alexis to feel as if his desire to be with Kate is stronger than his commitment to be home with her.

He would also feel pretty guilty, leaving his daughter to sit at home while he's tucked away in the forest with Kate.

He drops a post-it note on her luggage, telling her to have fun and that he loves her, before he slips out the front door.

Castle loads his duffel into the backseat and speeds out of the parking garage just as morning light begins filtering onto the streets of the city, stopping by his favorite coffee shop before he drives out of Manhattan.

It's the first time he's been to the establishment in over two months, the first time he gets to place an order for a vanilla latte again.

* * *

Kate is heaving through her second mile, her chest uncomfortably tight and her breathing irreparably out of sync. She keeps jogging until she finishes the lap, emerging from the trail with sweat dripping along her brow, down her cheeks and clinging to her jawline. She wipes at the stream of moisture before it can cascade any further down her neck, but it's no use. She's drenched and just wants to stand - or maybe sit - in the shower until the water washes her clean.

But a shower may have to wait.

Castle is already perched on the porch swing.

He tries to conceal the concern on his face with a smile, but it skitters across his features, lingers in his gaze; she must look terrible.

Kate attempts to regulate her breathing once more as she slows to a walk, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until she reaches him.

"Hey," she manages without panting, grateful when he bounds down the steps to meet her. "You're here early."

"I actually wanted to spend more than twenty-four hours with you this time," he shrugs, but now he looks anxious for an entirely different reason.

Kate rolls her eyes and braces her hands at his ribs. His brow arches as she leans in to brush a kiss to his mouth, but his hands fall to drape at her waist, draw her in closer.

"Castle," she mumbles, meaning to protest the proximity, but her body fails to resist it. "I'm all sweaty."

"You look hot." She huffs, but he squeezes her hips. "Both literally and figuratively."

"You looked terrified," she counters, nuzzling his cheek a little, dusting her lips along his stubble. He smells good, like coffee and aftershave that she's never been close enough to truly appreciate until now.

"I didn't know you were well enough to run," he murmurs, his fingers toying with the hem of her workout top.

"Frank has been increasing my endurance exercises. Been jogging for a while now, helps build my stamina." Though, most of that stamina, the high of running, is fading, leaving room for the pain that lives between her breasts and ribcage to rush back in. Castle's hands sneaking beneath her shirt, skimming along the slick skin of her back, isn't exactly helping. But she doesn't want him to stop.

"That's encouraging."

"Yeah, he says I'll be cleared for all forms of active duty soon," she murmurs, unable to conceal her smirk as his eyes flash.

"A-all?"

Kate slides her hands up his sides, curling her fingers in his button down and holding to the fabric as she tilts her chin to take his mouth. He hums into her kiss, growls when she nips at his upper lip before she sucks it into her mouth. She's never heard that sound before, never felt the vibration of it traveling through her.

She wants to hear it again.

Castle's hands explore her spine, fingers splaying over every bump of her vertebrae until they encounter the drenched material of her sports bra. Her spine arcs towards him and she gasps as their hips meet.

"I think it's working," he grins, but his hands are descending down her sides, gentling her. His thumbs caress the edge of the bra, so dangerously close to the undersides of her breasts, before following the rest of his fingers down the cage of her ribs to return to her hips. "Breathe, Beckett."

"I am." But the breath she sucks in through her nose is hasty; she didn't even realize she was holding it.

"Sorry," he chuckles, so confident and teasing now, turning her attempt at reassurance around on her. "Probably not the smartest thing to do after you've been working out."

"Worth it," she murmurs, kissing his chin before she flattens her palms to his chest. His heart is beating hard beneath her touch, just shy of matching the gallop of hers. "I'm glad you're here."

"You're about to be even more glad," he grins, letting her go and turning back towards the porch. "I brought breakfast."

Her lips quirk as he climbs the steps with a bounce in his, gesturing to the swing that holds bags of food she didn't notice earlier.

"And you'll have to warm it up, but-" Kate watches him stretch across the swing, rummaging around the bags, while she takes a deep breath to climb the stairs. It rushes from her lungs prematurely when he stands again, presenting a to go cup of coffee like a reward. "Grande skim latte, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla."

Her lips spread and her heart squeezes and she forces her legs to climb the stairs even as her inner thighs begin to tremble. Castle pretends not to notice, but he steadies her with the cup of his palm to her elbow once she reaches him. She accepts the cup, the brush of his fingers as it transfers from his hand to hers in a familiar form of greeting that she's missed.

Rick reaches for the food, cradling the bags in the crook of his arm as he turns for the front door.

"Come on, most of the food is still warm and I bet it's been forever since you've had a good latte. I want to see the look on your face when you take the first sip-"

"Castle," she murmurs, snagging his sleeve before he can stride inside. He pauses to glance back at her, lifting an eyebrow. "Thank you."

His entire face softens, his haste to get inside gone. He looks content to remain in this moment with her instead. She wishes she had her phone in her hand, wishes she could capture the expression he wears now. Cerulean eyes and that dopey smile that has him looking more in love with her than she deserves.

"Worth it," he echoes, catching her fingers when she releases his sleeve and tangling them with his. "Been bringing you a cup of coffee every day for the past three years just to see that smile, Beckett."

* * *

This visit is different from the last, less uncertain and tentative, less weight of things unsaid between them. It's easier, effortless in a way that already existed between them as partners. But now that they both know where they stand, Kate is visibly feeling more confident and so is he.

She insists on rinsing off from her run before joining him for breakfast, promising to be quick. He arranges everything on the table while he waits, heats her coffee in the microwave, has it all ready for her by the time she returns with fresh clothes and wet hair. She sits at the head of the table this time, a diagonal position from him, but doesn't hesitate to stretch her legs beneath the table to reach him.

He's careful with her, never allowing himself to forget the fragile state of her body, but he catches one of her ankles, circles his thumb at the bone before tugging. She hides her grin around the rim of her coffee cup but lifts her legs, lets him settle her feet in his lap.

"You have blisters," he murmurs, skimming his thumb along one of her toes, her heel.

"Castle," she huffs, digging the other heel into his thigh.

"Do they hurt?" he prods, tapping one of the white bubbles of skin.

She squirms, curls her toes and hides the blisters from his fingers. Flustered, cute. "Stop. You shouldn't even be touching my feet while you're handling food."

"I just won't use this hand," he shrugs, covering the tops of her feet with his palm, holding the other up in surrender.

Kate rolls her eyes, but leans back in her chair with her coffee to her chest.

She picks at her eggs, his cronut, but mostly fills up with fruit from the parfait he brought her and sips at her coffee with varying hums of approval. But once the latte is gone, he notices her starting to drift, slouching in her chair, wincing when it must take an uncomfortable toll on one of her healing spots.

"Kate, go lie down," he prompts, squeezing the feet still in his lap.

Her toes flex as she sighs, slipping her legs from his chair. There's frustration in the pinched corners of her eyes that he means to ask about, but she's already using the table to rise, shuffling towards the living room.

Castle stands, stores any leftovers in the fridge, and follows her to the couch. She's already falling asleep, starts to fade when he slips in between her body and the arm of the sofa, coaxes her to curl against him. Her head to his shoulder, knees at his thigh, her lips brushing his bicep through his shirt.

"M'sorry, Castle," she sighs, her cheek heavy against his bone. "I swear I have more exciting plans for the day than this."

Castle eases his arm around her, lets her find rest against his chest instead. "What are you talking about? This is riveting."

"The runs just make me so tired, I hate it," she grumbles, her words slurring. And maybe with anyone else, he wouldn't have been thrilled to come all this way for a woman to simply fall asleep on him after a brief breakfast. But for Kate Beckett, he'd make the drive every day just to watch her nap, especially if it meant being her pillow.

"Body's still healing. Just rest, Kate," he murmurs, lowering his chin to brush his lips to her crown. But she's already gone, breathing evenly against him.

Castle sinks a little deeper into the couch, gets comfortable. He's probably going to be here for a while.


	10. Chapter 10

When she wakes up, she feels sore. The scar between her breasts is beating out its usual angry rhythm and her ribs ache, like she's been sleeping on a pile of bones. Kate peels her eyes open, attempts to stretch out, but her legs are tied down, numb.

She shifts, manages to glance down the length of the couch she's lying on. Her vision is still blurred with sleep and it takes a moment to clear, for her mind to connect that her legs are tangled with his.

The fog of sleep immediately clears from her mind.

Shit, she fell asleep on top of Castle.

Kate lifts her head, braces herself for his gaze and all it might hold, but the sharp line of his jaw is the first sight she encounters. His head is turned away from her, his eyes steadfast and directed at the coffee table. She follows his gaze, feels warmth and an excitement that has grown almost foreign in the last two months spill through her chest.

His arm is stretched downwards, a pen in his grasp as he awkwardly works to jot down words on one of the legal pads her dad leaves all over the cabin. She catches 'Nikki' and 'Rook' on the page, shifts over him to try and see more-

Castle startles beneath her, glances away from the paper. His eyes soften once they land on her, his lips stretching into that smile he saves for her.

"You're awake."

"You're writing," she rasps. It's something she's meant to ask him about all summer - the books, Nikki Heat, if there was any of her story left to tell. But she received the email confirmation for a pre-order just last week, only a few days before his visit, and now she yearns to inquire about _Heat Rises._

He drops the pen atop the sheet of paper, reaches forward to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers tuck it behind her ear, travel along the braid down her spine-

"Did you braid my hair?"

He shrugs, sheepish, but tugs on the tail of it. "After you fell asleep, I just laid here with you for a bit, started playing with your hair. I'm good at braids."

"Always touching something," she mutters, but she lets him see the smirk spreading onto her lips.

"Can't help it," he murmurs, his voice light, but his eyes are a crisp blue staring back at her, alive and crackling. Leftover intensity from writing, she's sure, but the longing dripping through his gaze is something she's seen trace amounts of before. In the precinct when they're at the precipice of solving a case, when he's handing her a cup of coffee, when he tells her 'until tomorrow' at the end of a long day. "I've - okay, this is going to sound creepy, but I can't tell you how often I wanted to touch you, Kate. And not - not in the way that you'd think, but just…" His thumb strokes the edge of her jaw, follows the angle of bone to brush along her chin. "Like this."

The shiver slithers unbidden down her spine, has her easing closer to him. Her body has rarely gone unappreciated by significant others, but she doesn't think anyone has ever come close to the awe Castle holds for her. And he hasn't even seen her naked yet, hasn't truly _had_ her.

Every touch between them has been tentative and new, exploratory, but he still traces his hands over her as if he already knows every line. As if he already treasures every part.

Castle releases a breath, traces his thumb down the column of her throat.

"Especially after we kissed," he murmurs, but it's more of a husk that teases sparks through the kerosene of her blood. His thumb presses to the hollow of her throat, lingers before trailing up the ridge of her clavicle. "After the freezer, the night in LA. I wanted you so bad-"

She silences him with her mouth, silences the honesty that stings too much. She can't bear to hear about all the times that could have lead to more, how much he wanted her while she couldn't be had.

He was right before - they weren't ready, the timing was wrong, they would have sunk. Doesn't change the truth of it all.

"Wanted you too," she breathes, feeling his chest hitch beneath hers. She clings to his bottom lip with her mouth, plucks at it with her teeth, and slips her tongue past when he moans. "I hated how much I wanted you."

She's practically on top of him, her upper body strength fleeting, leaving her draped over his chest while her legs remain tangled with his. She feels more than hears his growl, senses the rush of desperation that floods through him at the confession.

The delicate exploration of her bones is forgotten by his fingers as they coast down her sides, splaying wide at her waist and snagging in her tanktop. Her hips rock and she gasps, clutches the collar of his shirt as fire spills through her veins.

This is probably going a little too far into the deep end, but the sweet taste of gasoline is on her tongue as it strokes his, matching the caress of his hands beneath her shirt, and she just wants to keep going until she drowns.

"Kate," he groans, like he's reading her mind, like he knows she's going to drag them under soon. His palms halt when they ascend higher up her backbone, discover no barrier. He moans, breaks away from her to tilt his head back, panting. "You're not wearing a bra."

"Too much work," she mumbles, pressing her nose to his cheek as she tries to breathe. But she's not wholly sure if she's talking about the bra or her restraint.

He rests his hands over her shoulder blades, draws her back from the depths of desire with the gentling brush of his mouth to the corner of hers.

"I gladly would have provided assistance."

Kate huffs, nips at his cheek, and grins as he digs the crescent moons of his fingernails into her skin.

"Enough for now," he murmurs, dragging his hands from her shirt, leaving her skin cold.

"I know," she mumbles, her voice sounding so throaty, drenched in sex, to even her own ears. "For now."

He swallows, his adam's apple rippling with it. She doesn't resist the urge to drop her lips to the movement of his throat, an innocent press of her mouth before she lifts her head.

"But not for long, Castle."

"I'm - yeah, probably not," he admits, easing up into a sitting position beneath her. He takes her with him, one of her arms remaining hooked around her waist as he rises. "But until you're better, until you're ready-"

"Enough for now," she echoes. "I know. I'm good with making out until then."

He laughs, some of the sparkling hints of lust dissipating, allowing the delight of his amusement to slip in. Castle reaches for one of her hands, brings her knuckles to his lips without extending her arm too high. It's a simple touch, but when he lets her go, the imprint of warmth remains seared into her flesh, not all from arousal this time.

The giddy feeling swirling through her chest isn't a familiar one; it's almost nauseating, the way it rushes through her like a swarm of butterflies, tickling her sternum, feathering along her lungs.

"Yes, making out is definitely good enough for me," he grins, rising from the sofa and stretching his arms over his head. "Want to head outside for a while? It looks like it might rain soon."

Kate follows his gaze to the sliding glass door that leads to the lake, offering a clear view of the gray clouds huddling in the sky.

"Probably should have checked the weather before I invited you out here," she sighs, accepting the hand he holds out to her.

He hauls her up easily. "Rain or shine, you know I still would have come."

Rick curls his fingers around hers, but she stops him with a press of her thumb before he can start for the door.

"Wait, Castle, your writing," she protests, casting her gaze back to the legal pad on the coffee table. She still has questions, still has that lingering softness in her chest from waking up to see him writing, maneuvering around the tangle of their limbs and the blockade of her on top of him just to get the words down without moving her. Words about her, because of her.

"I'll get back to it tonight," he assures her. "Don't worry, Kate, you provided me with enough inspiration in the last few minutes to last for the next week."


	11. Chapter 11

Castle convinces her to venture deeper into the woods, past the trail they walked together last time. He swings their tangled hands between them as they weave through trees and brush thick with lack of taming, coaxing childhood memories out of Kate along the way. He grins as she tells him about all the times she snuck out here as a kid, too eager for the embrace of the forest to follow the rules, risking a lecture from her mother and the knowing look from her father.

They turn back for the cabin when the rain begins to fall, starting as a simple drizzle, but the light mist quickly morphs into a downpour. Castle quickens his pace out of habit, used to dodging raindrops on the streets of New York with the rest of the pedestrians. But Kate loosens her grip on his hand, falls behind him for a few steps until she stops altogether.

He glances back to her, squinting to seek her gaze through the sheets of water. She's gripping her side, her lips pursed and her eyes screwed shut as the water soaks through her hair, her clothes.

"Castle, go ahead," Kate calls over the rush of rain. She's still paused in pain, but nodding in the direction of the cabin. "I'm not up to running right now."

"And?" he asks, fitting his fingers through the spaces between hers. He takes a few steps back to stand beside her, blinking through the rain, but waiting until she's ready. "We're already drenched anyway."

But then the thunder rumbles through the sky, lightning illuminating the pieces they can see through the trees, and he's a little more eager to get inside. He's always heard to stay away from trees during a lightning storm, something about natural conductors of electricity, and considering that they're in the middle of a forest surrounded by them...

With their luck, one of them is bound to be struck by a stray bolt.

"Just head inside. I'll catch up," she prompts, attempting to tug her hand free. But Castle only tightens his hold, sucks in a soaking breath.

With his luck, it would probably be Kate.

"Don't get mad."

Her lashes flutter so she can open her eyes, see him through the water as her lips part with a question. But he's already bending his knees, swooping his arm beneath hers, and lifting her up.

" _Castle_ ," she hisses, loud enough for him to hear over the rain. "Put me down. I can walk."

He secures his grip on her, one arm hooked under her knees while the other cradles her back, and begins to stride forward. The thunder drowns out her growl of indignation.

"I know, but I'd rather not risk you getting electrocuted," he reasons, fast-walking the rest of the way back to the cabin with Beckett coiled against his chest, cursing him half-heartedly throughout the quick journey.

He climbs the porch steps as steadily as he can, lowers her back to her feet once he's standing in front of the cabin's door. He expects the pierce of her glare, a smart remark, but she pushes inside without a word to him.

"Kate," he calls after her, shivering as he enters the cabin in his wet clothes. He wants to ask if he should undress on the porch, leave his clothes out there and change into the pair he brought for tomorrow, but she's already making her way through the living room and disappearing past her bedroom doorway. Castle huffs but follows, catching her just before she can shut the door to the tiny en suite bathroom. "Kate, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you feel-"

"It's not you," she groans, dropping her forehead to the doorjamb and squeezing her eyes shut. "It's me, my stupid body."

He lets the lack of understanding bleed across his face. "What are you talking about?"

"You drove all the way out here and all I've done so far is pass out on you and then get us caught in the rain because I'm too weak to move. It's pathetic, Castle."

"I drove all the way out here to be with you," he states, curling his hand around the edge of the door, but not pushing. "Honestly, Kate, I don't care what we do when we're here. I just want to be with you."

She swallows, opens her eyes, but her lashes remain dark and wet against her cheeks. Not lifting.

"You were shot just over two months ago, you nearly died," he reminds her slowly, as if she's forgotten. "You're healing. That's the reason you're here. Not to entertain me. And I don't need any entertainment. We could spend the next day sacked out on your couch doing nothing and it would be the best weekend getaway I could hope for."

She looks reluctant, but her eyes ascend to meet his, bloodshot and glimmering with tears that he knows are born of frustration.

"And what's so wrong with a lazy weekend in your dad's cabin?" he asks, a little softer now. "Can't this be enough?"

Kate sighs, lets go of the door and lets him come in. "I just wanted to be more, wanted to give you more than a boring weekend."

"Kate." She releases a shuddering breath as he draws her into a hug, wraps his arms around her trembling frame. They're both soaking wet, dripping all over the hardwood floors, but he doesn't rush the moment, doesn't try to push her towards the towels hanging on the rack at her back. "You could never bore me." He tightens his arms around her. "There's not a single thing about you that bores me."

Her chin digs into his collarbone, her fingers hook in the waistband of his jeans.

"I'm not going to be good at this, Castle," she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the pound of rain against the roof, the pane of her bedroom window.

"Good at what?"

"Recovering, our relationship, all of it," she sighs, the pressure of her chin abandoning his clavicle, but she stays. "I should have waited until I was better and back to work-"

"No," he argues, sharper than he meant to, but he feels it like a stab through his chest. Waiting until she was back to work? That would mean an entire summer of moping, feeling like there was a gaping hole where his heart should be. "No more waiting."

Her brow furrows, like he's just said the most preposterous thing, and - well, yeah, because of his vow to wait for her, wait as long as it takes, but no. Not what he meant.

"That month after you were shot was one of the worst of my life," he admits, not that he believes it's a very shocking confession. "From the day you dismissed me at the hospital, until you texted me-"

"I wasn't dismissing you," she says quietly, the guilt he hoped to avoid blooming through her gaze. "And that month wasn't exactly a breeze for me either. I needed time to just… I couldn't face anything that happened that day, including you. Montgomery was dead, I had a bullet in my chest, and there wer- _are_ people out there who want me dead, who probably won't quit until I am."

The reminder of of that final fact wrecks him. Out here, in the safety and seclusion of her dad's cabin in the woods, it's almost easy to forget that it isn't over. That the sniper who shot her is still roaming free, potentially plotting his next shot, that she's still being hunted.

Kate's fingers unfurl from his jeans, her knuckles brushing the base of his spine and bringing him back to her.

"The memory of you telling me you loved me… it was too much, too tainted at the time." Her jaw quivers and he watches her tighten the bone with resolve, avert her eyes to the wall. "It doesn't mean I didn't want it, didn't want _you_ , but I didn't want that one beautiful thing crushed by all the bad. So I forgot it."

Her words strike him like a punch to the gut and clench like an iron fist around his heart at the same time.

"That month before I sent that first text message was brutal - the pain, the nightmares, the memories. I never wanted to hurt you, but I needed to be alone. Otherwise, I think you would have regretted saying it in the first place."

"No, I wouldn't have," he argues, calm but firm in his protest.

Her lips purse. "Rick-"

" _No_ , I wouldn't have," he repeats. "I loved you before you were shot, Kate. Nothing was going to change that or make me take it back."

He trails his eyes along the rivulets of water streaming down the side of her throat, converging in the hollow place between her clavicles.

"Nothing's going to make me take it back," he murmurs, swearing it to her like a promise. "But waiting an extra two months to hear from you would have been hell. I can give you space, time, but don't shut me out."

Castle drops his hands from their resting place at her waist, but she catches them before he can move away.

"Okay," she murmurs, stepping in close. She looks like she's freezing, subtle shivers racing through her bones every few minutes, but she doesn't rush in cupping his face in her hands, dropping her forehead to his. Her breath whispers across his lips. "I'm sorry."

Castle shakes his head and steals one of her hands, presses a kiss to her palm.

"Already forgave you, Beckett."

Her fingers curl around his lips, trapping his kiss in the cove of her hand.

"Sometimes it feels like after my mother died, I built up this wall," she sighs, stroking her thumb to the corner of his mouth. "I guess I just didn't want to hurt like that again, but I think it's also caused me to block out a lot of other things. Good things."

The disappointment leaking into her features devastates him, but he strokes his thumb to the bone of her wrist, presses the pad of his finger to the line of her pulse.

"Pretty sure I built a ladder a long time ago," he murmurs, watching the light flare like hope in her eyes, burning away the dark traces of despair. "I may be wrong, but it feels like I'm inside the wall with you, like I've had access for a while."

Finally, that secret smile he's only ever seen her wear for him begins to bloom across her lips.

"You're not wrong."

 _Thank god._

"See? Just swimming around behind a wall. The metaphors prevail."

She huffs a laugh, but presses her fingers to his cheek, nudging his face back towards hers. The kiss she brushes to his lips is soft, grateful, a pleasant warmth unfurling through the rain induced chill that's engulfed his skin.

"Take a break from swimming and go so I can change," she murmurs against his lips. "I'm freezing."

"Me too. Ooh, I should make us some hot chocolate. Do you have marshmallows?"

Kate smirks, but that light is still dancing in her eyes. "I think so. Check the pantry."

"Be right back," he grins, pushing one more kiss to her mouth before finally letting her go.

The light from her gaze spreads through him, eviscerating any residual grief from their conversation and the scars they both ripped open to have it.

These discussions, confessionals, aren't easy. They're damn grueling, but with each exchange they struggle through and emerge victoriously from, he feels even better about what they are and where they stand. He feels all the more certain of what he wants.

This relationship will require work, more than he's even fathomed putting into with any other woman, but that's the difference.

Kate isn't just another woman he's dating, she isn't a new conquest or a temporary thing. Kate is for keeps, for always.

Kate is worth it.


	12. Chapter 12

The rain doesn't stop, neither does the snarling thunder or jagged bolts of lightning crackling through the sky. It isn't so bad being stranded in a storm with Rick Castle, though.

He rummages through her dad's DVD collection for movies, comes back with board games instead. She beats him two out of three times in Scrabble, driving him crazy, and he forces her to play Monopoly until she forfeits all of her fake money in favor of dinner.

Rick has made a thorough examination of the pantry, practically categorized all of the contents within his head, and rummages through the shelves until he returns with a box of pasta. She chops vegetables while he boils the water, mixes a sauce. They eat together on the couch, side by side with bowls in their laps.

She's never had something so simple feel so nice, natural and effortless. But it shouldn't surprise her, judging by how many times they've shared a meal in the precinct's break room or dinner at her desk. Not everything between them will always be easy, but tonight is.

Once their stomachs are full and Castle is drowsing beside her, she collects their bowls from the coffee table, turns off the movie he found on television. She kisses his mouth to rouse him, drawing him up from the couch, and mumbles the 'until tomorrow' against his lips.

But even after they've both retired to their rooms, she doesn't sleep. She already knows that as long as the weather persists, those booming rolls of thunder and relentless flashes of light, she'll only ensure her own nightmares, promise a panic attack to follow.

It's barely past midnight when everything goes dark, painfully quiet. The power gone.

Kate sighs and stares up at the ceiling, accepting that sleep is definitely out of the question now. She takes a deep breath, grateful for the beating rhythm of rain against the cabin's wooden frame. She doesn't think she could stand the all consuming silence punctuated by the rustle of branches and duet of crickets and frogs.

The comforting hum of the air conditioner gone does allow her to hear every noise made inside of the house, though, and she hears the exact moment her dad's bedroom door eases open. Castle's footsteps are soft, but she catches their whisper across the wood as he grows closer, the curl of his fingers around her doorknob.

His head pokes inside, his eyes squinting in the moonlit darkness to meet hers.

"The power is out," he whispers.

Kate rolls her eyes. "I'm aware."

Rick takes that as his invitation to come inside.

"I came check on you and offer the opportunity to conserve warmth so you don't freeze on this chilly night."

She scoffs. "Castle, it's a hot summer night."

"There's a breeze."

"Can't stand being alone in the dark?" she challenges. He opens his mouth to deny it, but hesitates.

"Well. Maybe a little."

"Just get in," she sighs, pushing down the comforter and scooting over in the bed. There isn't much space, it'll be a tight fit, but she doesn't think Castle will mind.

He strides through her bedroom with the light of his phone as his guide, dropping it onto her nightstand once he reaches the bed. She's in cotton shorts and a large t-shirt, her usual nighttime attire these days, but she still tugs the thin sheet to her chest while he lowers to the edge of the bed.

The last time they shared a bed was different, accidental. She was still reeling from a nightmare where he took her place at Montgomery's funeral, lying below her on cemetery grass with his blood hot and spilling all over her hands. She tiptoed across the cabin to dispel the sight cemented into her head of him pale and cold and gone, but she had no intentions of crawling into bed with him that night, staying until morning.

This is different, this is an invitation.

"You sure this isn't too much?" he murmurs, perched on the edge of her bed. He's staring down at her with that gentle expression of concern, worry in the disguise of a thin smile, with his feet still touching the floor. Because he knows there's a chance he'll have to rise, walk away.

The prelude of lightning illuminates her bedroom, flashes across his features. The clap of thunder that follows has her shifting her back towards the wall and patting the space in the sheets for him.

"Yes," she murmurs, curling her arms to her chest as he finally eases the rest of the way into her bed.

She pushes a pillow his way, watching him sink down until he lies flat on his back beside her. He wriggles around until he's comfortable, snug in her childhood bed, and she has to suppress her grin. Never in a million years would she have imagined Richard Castle lying beside her in a full-sized bed in the middle of the woods.

"Why are you laughing?" he huffs, even though she hasn't made a sound. The purse of her lips just isn't enough to hide her amusement and of course, he notices.

"I'm not laughing, it's just surreal, you know," she mumbles, pressing her fist to the round scar at her sternum. "That you're here."

His smile spreads and he nestles a little deeper into her mattress. "Couldn't ask for a better place to ride out the storm."

"Did you check in with Alexis?"

"Yeah, service wasn't great with the weather, but I was able to talk with her for a few minutes. She's safe, stranded inside her friend's beach house, but she's having a good time."

Kate hums. "I'm glad."

"Are you ever going to tell me how your conversation with her really went?" he inquires, turning his head on the pillow to stare back at her.

"I already told you that it went well. That's all you need to know."

He pouts, casts his eyes to the window, watching the trickle of droplets down the glass. She lets him sulk for a few minutes before she moves a fraction closer to him in the bed, close enough to touch her chin to the rounded edge of his shoulder. His skin is warm beneath the thin layer of his t-shirt, emanating heat through the fabric. It feels nice now, but without the cool air running through the house, replaced with the moist weight of humidity instead, he'll produce body heat like a furnace, burn her up like a fever.

She still doesn't want him to go back to his own bed.

"I just told her how I feel," she murmurs, studying the shadows of raindrops splattering against the windowpane stream down the opposite wall. "I was honest with her."

Castle is quiet for a moment, a thoughtful kind of silence.

"She told me she wants to go for coffee with you when you're back and settled in the city." Kate's eyebrows rise, not expecting that. She immediately feels a touch of shame for thinking it, but she wonders if Alexis is simply eager to interrogate her in person. "Or just have you over for dinner, which is something I'd really like too."

Oh. Well, that certainly dispels some of her trepidation.

"So would I," she murmurs, watching his eyes flicker in the darkness. The same shadows that streak down the walls are painted across his face, patterns of movement from the rain decorating his cheeks. But his eyes are steady and cerulean.

The way he's looking at her gives her courage, crushes some of her fears. But not all of them.

"Rick." He quirks an eyebrow in response. "What happens when we go back?" she whispers, examining his face for cracks of doubt, panic, but his expression doesn't falter.

"You'll go back to work, I'll do my best to convince your new captain, who already hates me, to let me come back with you," he begins, but her stomach lurches. She hasn't even been thinking about how Montgomery has been replaced, has purposely refrained from thinking too much about anything related to the case, her captain's death, and-

Wait, her supposed new boss already hates him?

"How do you know he hates you?" she asks before he can continue.

Castle sighs, diverts his gaze to the hands he has folded atop his stomach. "Because, after your shooting, I was with the boys every day at the Twelfth, working your case. But when she showed up, she made it clear that a police station was no place for a writer. One of the first things she did was kick me out, ban Ryan and Espo from sharing information with me."

Indignation swells in her chest.

"She can't kick you out. You're my partner."

"Kate-"

"No, I don't want to lose you at the precinct," she argues, pushing up onto her shoulder despite the way it tugs both of her scars taut. "You're an asset to our team, to me."

"I don't want to go either," he states, the conviction laced through his words, but it's not nearly as strong as the lovestruck way he's gazing up at her, how elated her mention of his importance apparently makes him. She's probably said too much, let him see too much of just how deeply she values him, how she has for longer than she would care to admit. But maybe it isn't worth hiding anymore.

"Then we'll fight for your spot," she resolves, easing back down onto her side before her wounds force her to.

"She isn't someone you want to be on the bad side of, Kate," he warns. "They call her 'Iron Gates' for a reason."

"She's already on my bad side," Kate mutters as another growl of thunder rips through the air, this one shuddering through the ground, the walls, her bones.

She used to love storms, was always able to find peace amidst the sound of rainfall and clash of thunder and lightning. But now it's just too much, sensory overload.

Just another thing her shooting has taken away from her.

"Apparently," he murmurs, reaching for her hand and brushing his thumb back and forth over her pulse until it calms.

She sighs and drags her body the rest of the way across the slim distance of sheets between them.

"Tell me the rest."

Castle keeps her hand in his arop his abdomen, circling one of her knuckles with his thumb as he speaks.

"Okay, well, work related stuff aside, it's simple, Kate. I'm going to take you on dates, you'll come over to the loft or I'll come to your place. We'll be together as often as you can stand me and-"

"Castle," she says with reproach, her brow creasing at the self-deprecation that carries just a little too much sting.

"I know you need your space," he murmurs, his thumb stroking along her index finger now. "And I know I'm not always good at giving it to you."

She frowns. She knows there's truth to his words, but-

"We'll work on it then, work on our communication," she compromises, flipping her palm upwards to snag his restless thumb. "I'll tell you if I need space and you tell me if I'm taking too much, shutting you out." She hooks her pinky around his and the corner of his mouth curls at the significance of a childlike promise. "But Castle, it's not just my needs that are important in this relationship. What you want matters too."

He's careful, always careful with her broken body, as he draws her arm a little higher up his chest, touches his lips to the inside of her wrist. She scratches her thumbnail to the edge of his chin, the peppering of stubble there, and tilts her head in question. He looks far too severe, contemplative, for what she considers a rather simple concept.

Kate curls her fingers at his jaw. "What?"

"Nothing, you're just… I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but no one else has ever been so serious about me, what I'm feeling," he admits with a small shrug. "Also, hearing you talk about us in a relationship is pretty awesome too. I can't believe I'm dating you."

She releases a breath of laughter, but he doesn't. Castle's back to wearing that expression of reverence that causes her cheeks to warm and her heart to beat too hard.

Kate brushes her thumb to his lips. "You should sleep."

"Saying too much?"

"Always," she grins, grateful for the upwards twist of his mouth.

Her hand slips from his grasp, her arm slithering down to rest along the cage of his ribs. She starts to drift like that, with the pattering of rain like a lullaby, the heat of his body beneath her arm and against her side, the flutter of his lashes the last thing she sees before hers fall shut.

She wakes only once in the night, jolted into consciousness by a roll of thunder that shakes the house. But she doesn't fully emerge from sleep's embrace, from Castle's either. He's shifted onto his side and her body has curled at his back, her forehead to his shoulder blade and her knees fit into the bent shape of his, spooning him. Her arms are folded at her chest, but her fingers fist in the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him through the night.

She's able to drift back into slumber far quicker than ever before, doesn't wake again before morning. It's the best night of sleep she's had since even before her shooting.

* * *

He doesn't want to move.

Kate is curled around his spine, every part of her body slotted into place against his. He never imagined he would get the chance to have her this close and he really doesn't want the reality of it to end.

But he also really needs to use the bathroom.

Rick sighs and covers her hand at his abdomen, slips his fingers through the spaces of hers. His palm engulfs hers, blanketing the knuckles of her fist, her fingers. He's never thought of Beckett as small, but like this, she feels a little less like the indomitable warrior woman that is Detective Beckett and more like Kate, the softer version he shares a bed with.

He squeezes her fingers once before doing his best to ease from the cove of her body at his back. He doesn't expect to succeed, predicting her cop senses would have her jerking awake at the slightest movement. But she remains with eyes closed and face slack in the bed, her arms curling around the pillow he replaces his body with, holding it to her chest.

He snags his phone from the nightstand, checks that his volume is low, and opens the camera app. He takes only a couple of photos, knowing she'll kill him if she ever finds out, but he'll gladly bear the consequence. It's worth capturing the image of Kate Beckett at peace.

Besides, he doesn't think he would mind the punishment.

Castle pockets his phone and tiptoes out of her bedroom, heading for the main bathroom so not to risk waking her. He pads down the short hall to the living room, turns off a lamp, and realizes the power must have come back sometime in the night. It hums through the house now as he picks up his pace, bypassing the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard on his way.

He almost stops to gape at the flood of water outside.

The lake has filled, overwhelmed the dock, and crept up the slight incline of land that the cabin rests on. The water is practically at the back door.

Castle rushes through his morning routine in the bathroom, eager to do a more thorough examination of the island Jim Beckett's cabin has become. But when he emerges only minutes later, Kate is already standing at the backdoor, her eyes still cloudy with sleep and assessing the oasis.

"I just left you," he murmurs, his voice still hoarse from sleep, a _good_ night's sleep. He never would have expected being crammed in a slim bed with another person would be so cozy, but considering that person is Kate, he really shouldn't be surprised. "Why are you already up?"

Kate's lips twitch. "Wasn't as comfortable without you. Plus, a pillow isn't a great substitute."

"Looks like we'll just have to keep sharing beds then," he sighs, drifting across the living room to stand beside her.

The world looks like it's been washed clean.

The property is drenched, a few branches down and sailing through the newly expanded lake, but the storm has passed and the sun has come out from behind the clouds, throwing sunbeams across the water.

"May have to keep you here another night regardless, Castle," she points out. "The cabin is on elevated ground, but the driveway probably resembles the backyard."

"Has this ever happened before?" he inquires, trying not to seem so elated over the prospect of staying another night. Potentially spending this unplanned extra night in Kate's bed again.

"A few times," Kate nods. "Hazard of living so close to a body of water, but it's never reached the house and usually recedes pretty quickly."

He hums his understanding, slides his gaze to study her. Her hair is in waves that are a little more wild than he's used to, kinking around her face and calling for the comb - and clutch - of his fingers. The light reflecting off of the lake flickers to dance across the hollows of her cheeks, illuminate the eyes she cuts to him.

Kate arches an eyebrow, but tucks an untamed strand of hair behind her ear.

"What are you staring at now, Castle?"

He grins, can't help himself, and shrugs. "You just look beautiful in the mornings."

Kate ducks her head, hides behind the curtain of her hair before running a hand through it. She hasn't put on any makeup since he's been here, hardly wore any last time, and he's almost fascinated by the fresh face and unruly hair that he's never had the chance to see before. How it makes her appear so young yet strong, vulnerable but just as powerful without the black eyeliner and five-inch heels.

"Yeah, well, so do you," she murmurs, swaying towards him to brush back the flop of hair from his forehead. "But I think you look even better in my bed."

His heart stutters and he nearly chokes on his own breath. Her grin is wicked, but the amusement in her eyes is bright like the flecks of gold in her gaze.

"Come on, Rick," she chuckles, her hand tripping down his ribs until her fingers collide with his. "It's still early and want to lie down for a little longer."

He stumbles, but follows her back to bed.


	13. Chapter 13

Castle visits her twice more in the weeks that follow, showing up with his laptop both times and sharing her bed each night of his stay.

Kate's recovery is feeling closer to conclusion, her time at the cabin winding down and her return to the city imminent. Her trepidation to go home still exists, a thorn of apprehension in her side, but it's not just psych evaluations and a new captain, an unlived in apartment and restless nights, that she's going back to. It's him too.

Castle knows her fears - she thinks he figured them out before she did - and he's not going to let her face them alone. Which should terrify her in itself. She's never wanted to deal with her issues and inner demons with anyone but herself. But this is different, _he's_ different, and she wants him at her side through it all as her partner. As the person she found who is always willing to stand with her.

Who is still so patiently waiting on her.

It's been just over a month since he showed up here for the first time, since texting turned to him making weekly drives out of Manhattan to upstate New York, since falling asleep on the phone evolved to curling up against him in her own bed.

She already knows that a true test for their relationship will be returning to the city, leaving the lovely bubble the cabin has become for them, and venturing back into the real world with him. But Castle has managed to make her feel so sure of him, of them; he makes her feel ready.

He definitely has her tired of waiting.

They kiss, touch, make out until they're both breathless, but she's struggling to resist replacing his laptop with the straddle of her legs over his waist lately. She's had enough swimming in the shallows, paddling out to him in the deep end only to drift back to shore over and over again.

Her physical therapy sessions are coming to an end next week and during Castle's next visit, she intends to swim out to the deep end with him and stay there.

Not that she's feeling too confident about that after today's session.

She's in so much pain, her chest threatening to cave in with every breath, her arms trembling. Her dad drives her back to the cabin, not saying much in the short ride. She's grateful for it, doesn't think she could manage conversation through her grit teeth.

But despite the tears in her eyes and the sweat staining her brow, Frank praised her determination once their session finally wrapped. Her therapist pushed her hard, broke her down, and now all she wants is to collapse until her body calms and her scars no longer feel on the verge of ripping her apart. But she's improving, has improved so much, and she can feel it.

"Just call if you need anything, honey," her dad murmurs as he helps her up the stairs of the cabin. She lets him without protest, not sure she could deny it even if she wanted to.

He presses a kiss to her forehead before he departs and Kate manages a smile, a fleeting wave of her hand as he backs out of the driveway. She'll be fine in a few hours, maybe less. She's improving, she reminds herself again, repeating it in her head like a mantra, that's why Frank was able to push so hard today. Because her body can take it. Because it's getting better. She's _so_ close to being better.

She can't wait to tell Castle later.

Kate unlocks the front door, works her way inside, and heads straight for the shower. She's drenched and disgusting from PT, sweat drying to layer along her skin. She turns the water on, strips from her damp clothes, and does her best to tie her hair into a quick bun atop her head. Her hair deserves a proper wash, but there's no way her arms would allow that right now. For a few minutes, she stands unmoving beneath the hot water, letting the steam billow while the spray soaks her skin and beats against her battered muscles. It helps, alleviates some of that terrible trembling.

Kate reaches for her body wash, relieved when it doesn't slip from her fingers and her arm holds steady as she pours a dollop into her palm. She's recovering quicker too.

Her lips quirk as she rubs her hands together, producing a lather of soap and spreading it across her body. She doesn't feel so bad after all.

Kate towels off after her shower, tugs on a button down and a comfortable pair of shorts. Frank gave her a protein bar after she cooled down from her exercises, instructed her to eat a full meal once she was home, but she isn't hungry. Her body feels hard and powerful, her appetite buried beneath the thrum of progress through her veins.

She snags a banana to be safe, stave off the risk of dizziness and shaking, and grabs her phone before she retires to the couch. Castle's supposed to be having his first book signing in the city today, finally succumbing to a summer of pressure from Gina and Paula. He complained about it on the phone last night, daydreaming aloud about escaping to the cabin.

"They'd never find me there," he mused. "It's the perfect hideaway and it's got you."

She rolled her eyes at the remark, but the thing that continues to strike her about Castle is that the sweet words he says are never lines she's heard come from the playboy persona's mouth. He is so genuinely in awe of her and he doesn't even try to conceal it anymore.

"You're welcome to hide away here with me any time," she answered, practically able to feel his smile across the line of connection. "But you should probably go to this book signing, Rick. I'm sure your fans have missed you."

"I'm still saving the first copy for you. Personalized autograph at all," he promised. She didn't tell him that her copy has already been shipped and is on its way here now. She would rather have his instead.

She checks her phone, but aside from his usual morning greeting and the 'Good luck at therapy. Don't kill Frank' text that she read and replied to earlier, there are no messages yet. It's almost noon now, his signing should be starting soon.

She lowers onto the couch cushions with her phone in hand, sends him a good luck message of her own.

 _I hope the signing goes well. Don't let Gina or Paula kill you._

Kate holds onto the device as she lays down, her arms curled to her chest and her hands tucked under her chin out of habit. She falls asleep before he can reply.

* * *

The loft is empty when he returns home from the book signing. With the first day of school approaching, Alexis has fallen into her usual preparation routines, and his mother is out rehearsing for the latest role she nabbed in a play.

He doesn't mind the solitude, welcomes the quiet for a change. Book signings, coupled with Paula's pushing and Gina's lectures, always manage to drain him. He wants to call Kate, dramatically complain, listen to her chastise him for it, and hear how her day is going. But he answered her text as soon as the signing wrapped and he hasn't heard back from her yet.

It's a Friday and her physical therapy sessions are usually scheduled later in the mornings at the end of the week, finished by noon if not later. She's probably recovering from Frank's torture with a hard nap.

Not a bad idea. He has the rest of the afternoon free, considers retreating to his own bed for just a little while.

Until his phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans and he wonders if Kate is up after all.

His heart flutters with hope, but the unknown number flashing across his screen doesn't belong to her. He hesitates, lets curiosity gets the best of him.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Castle," the unfamiliar voice addresses. Commanding, articulate, mysterious - a voice with strong character and foreboding promise. Never necessarily a good sign.

Rick swallows. "Yeah."

"I'm a friend of Roy Montgomery's. I'm calling about Detective Beckett." Castle's heart stops. No, definitely not a good sign. "We need to talk."

* * *

The recurring buzz of her phone wakes her later that afternoon. The vibrations hum through her hand, traveling up the bones of her arm and shaking her into awareness. Kate frowns as she opens her eyes, squinting at the beams of sunlight spearing through the glass of the backdoor. She didn't mean to sleep so long, so late into the afternoon, by the looks of it.

She sighs and pushes up onto her elbows, her phone still clutched in her grasp. She really needs to fix her sleeping schedule before she returns to work at the end of the month.

The phone trembles again and she growls, swears she'll kill Castle if he doesn't-

 _I'm coming over._

Her brow furrows, but she isn't necessarily opposed to the idea. Just confused and a little more than worried over the sudden urgency those three words seem to carry. Kate unlocks her phone, scrolls through his other three messages, one in response to her last text about the signing ( _Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, you better avenge me if they do._ ) and then the flurry of messages combined with a missed call.

 _Hey, I know it's a PT day, but if you're feeling up to it, we need to talk._

 _Okay, I called, but you're not answering. I know you're probably just sleeping, but this can't wait._

The thrum of worry intensifies. What could have him so worked up and on his way to see her?

Another message comes through, sparks a fresh crackle of nerves through her system.

 _Traffic is kinda heavy, but I'm leaving now. Hope to see you by tonight._

Kate presses the call option next to his name, rubs at her eyes while it rings.

"Hey," he answers, breathless, by the sounds of it. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yeah, sorry, I had a long session this morning. Passed out afterwards," she replies, but the twist of her stomach fails to stop. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I - no reason, I just didn't hear from you all day," he explains, going for nonchalant, but no, it's more than that. She can hear it in his voice.

"Castle, what's going on?" she demands, her fingers automatically curling over her scar.

She hears him sigh over the noises of the traffic he mentioned. "I can't talk right now, but I'm on my way to you. I'll bring dinner."

But she doesn't want dinner. "Did something happen at the signing?"

"What? The - oh, no. No, the signing went okay. I survived and all while keeping a smile on my face," he tries to play, but he sounds worn down, far too tired. She already feels the hum of impatience rippling through her blood, wishes he would just get here now. "Listen, Kate, everything's okay. I just - I got a phone call."

"A phone call?" she echoes, but her heart is already sinking. She already knows.

Castle's hesitation to respond only confirms it.

"It's about your mother's case."

* * *

Smith's words roll repetitive and daunting through his head during his long drive to the cabin. Rick wasn't going to tell her, spent over an hour going over all of the reasons it would probably do more harm than good for her to know. But a relationship weighed down by secrets isn't what he wants, not with her. They haven't worked this hard, swum this far, for him to lie to her.

Kate's been making incredible progress, building her body back up to full strength, pushing herself through her physical recovery without pause. And on top of it all, she's been prying herself open for him in every other way, letting him past the walls whether they're ready to come down or not. He's not going to destroy all of that by sinking them.

When he pulls into the cabin's driveway, she's already waiting for him on the porch swing. It reminds him of the first time he came here, only tonight, she's sprinkled in stardust instead of the sun and the trepidation bleeding into her features is no longer hidden.

Rick emerges from the car with his heart in a gallop, bags of takeout in his hand that he knows she won't be hungry for any time soon. He couldn't have this conversation with her while driving, couldn't have it on the phone, period. But he knows two hours of anxious waiting has only made this worse for her, that she's probably dying with the need to know.

Kate remains seated on the swing as he approaches, her eyes refusing to meet his until he's climbed the porch steps and stands in front of her.

"When did this man call you?" Her voice is solemn, steady like when she's conducting an interview at the precinct, but her eyes betray her. She's become far too good at letting him see her with her guard down.

"Maybe an hour after the signing," he murmurs, wondering if he should sit down beside her, or if this is one of those time she's in need of her space. "He called himself Smith, said he was a friend of Montgomery's, and that Roy sent him some files before he was killed."

"Files?" she repeats, her brow dipping just slightly.

"That could hurt some very powerful people if they ever got out," he nods. "Apparently, they were using those files as a threat to keep Montgomery's family from being harmed. Your safety was also part of the deal."

"My safety? I - I was shot," she says, staring up at him so confused and - oh, she's terrified of this. Not for her life, but for her sanity. Kate is the most intense person he's ever known, especially when it comes to her mother's case, but she knows even better than he does what the obsession does to her. She looks as eager to thrust herself back down the rabbit hole as he is to follow.

"The files didn't arrive until afterwards, too late. But he said you're safe now, on one condition." Her eyebrows rise. "You can't go anywhere near the case, can't start digging again, or they'll kill you."

Her face pales for only a moment before the indignation burns through her gaze.

"So I'm supposed to sit back and just… accept this?"

"I didn't say that." His hand flexes around the bags in his grasp. "I think we can figure this out, we just have to lie low for a while-"

"Lie low? Rick, they tried to _kill me_ and they're still out there."

"With a deal in place that keeps them from coming after you," he reminds her, but ah, yeah, that was probably the wrong thing to say. Her eyes are on fire, ready to go to war. "For right now," he begins to amend. "You're safe. We can use that to our advantage, to do this right."

"What _right_ way is there? I'm not a child, Castle. I'm not going to let some men hiding in the shadows scare me off and strike a deal for my life while we… wait, why did he call you anyway?"

He swallows hard. He may not have done anything wrong, but he knows she's not going to like this part either.

"Smith said he needed someone to make sure you weren't pursuing it, to steer you away."

Her jaw squares, but he can see her heart threatening to break across her face.

"Is that what you plan to do?"

Anger flares sudden and hot in his chest. Does she really have so little faith in him?

"Would I be here telling you if I was, Kate?" he demands, his throat grating with a growl. "My only _plan_ is to keep you from putting blinders on and running straight into the line of fire."

She grits her teeth. "That's not your job, your choice. This is my life, _mine_. You don't get to decide-"

"Bullshit," he snaps, feeling it all unfurl through his system at once. The rage, the heartache, the grief, the betrayal. His love for her. Everything he's felt and quieted throughout the last year spills through him fast and searing. "I'm not having this argument again. _Your_ life is my life now, Kate. That's what happens when you love someone as much as I love you and I won't watch you throw it away. I won't lose you again."

Kate pushes up from the swing, the chains rattling in her wake.

"And if you feel differently, then I should probably just go now," he states, firm but low, aching, because he doesn't want to leave her, to lose her this way either. But if she lets him go, chooses reckless ambition and certain death over him… what's the point?

Her chest shudders with a deep breath, but she shakes her head.

"Don't go."

But her eyes are downcast and she's turning away from him, leaving him on the porch as she retreats inside.

 _Don't go_ isn't the same as _stay_.


	14. Chapter 14

Her heart feels jagged and aching.

She lies still in her bed, flat on her back with her eyes on the ceiling, hurting too much to move even if she had the desire to. She's furious at everyone - the dragon, the sniper who shot her, the mysterious voice on the phone known as 'Smith', Castle. Herself.

Investigating her own shooting has been her top priority since she woke in that hospital bed with a hole in her chest, but since Castle… her priorities have done some shifting. He's managed to edge out everything else for the highest spot on that list.

She doesn't want to put on blinders and run headfirst into danger this time, it wasn't what she wanted before he arrived on her doorstep tonight and that hasn't changed. She wants to do it right, wants to keep _him_ safe, but he's too busy trying to do the same for her.

She's surprised, actually, and so damn grateful, that he didn't take part in Smith's deal, that he came to her with the truth. He deserves credit for that and she'll give it.

When she's not so pissed.

Even though it's not his fault.

Kate sighs, covers her face with her hands and expels a deep breath from beneath her palms.

She doesn't want to play this game of puppet, to appease this deal she's had no say in. Her instinct is to run straight into war with these bastards, bring them to their knees for all they've done to her, to those she loved. But Castle is right about one thing - they will kill her.

Alexis's words ring out through her head.

 _They'll kill you both._

Kate sits up in the bed, swings her legs over the side, and runs a hand through her hair. If anything happened to Castle… no, she can't. She's resilient, a survivor, but she won't come out alive from that.

Her scar simmers with warning as she pushes too fast out of the bed, swaying a little on her feet before she can continue out of her room and down the hall. He sits at the kitchen table, fingers interlaced and curled into fists with his forehead propped against his knuckles. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are wrought with tension.

She brings him so much tension. He's a good man, has a beautiful heart, and she so badly wants to be deserving of all he has to give. She wants to be worth it, she wants to be more. More than her mother's murder, more than a gunshot victim, more than a conspiracy that's bound to get her killed.

She wants to love him.

Kate holds her breath as she crosses the living room to reach him, pads silently into the kitchen to stand beside him.

"I don't feel differently." His head lifts, tired eyes seeking her out in the soft light. "I won't lose you either. I can't."

He sits up in the wooden chair, reaches for her hand. She comes before he has to apply any pressure, slips into his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. His forehead seals against her sternum, the heavy exhale he releases fluttering hot across the slopes of her breasts.

Kate touches her lips to his crown, her nose in his hair, and closes her eyes.

"I love you," she whispers. "So much, Castle."

His breath catches at her chest. But it doesn't scare her as much as she once thought it would to say the words aloud. They've been on the tip of her tongue for so long now, it only feels natural to let them free.

Rick lifts his head, stares up at her like he's wonderstruck. He has to have known, though, has to have felt it in the way she looks at him, touches him.

"I love you too, Kate," he murmurs, one of his hands rising to cradle her cheek. She bows her head to meet his, breathes through the gentle stutter of her heart. "And about Smith-"

"No," she sighs, pleads. "Not now, Castle. Just - I love you, I can finally say it, and I don't want that ruined by anything else."

His lips quirk and he nods, strokes his thumb along the slash of her cheekbone. "Okay. Enough for tonight."

"Of that, yes." She nudges her nose to his, dusts her lips along the corner of his mouth.

His brow lifts, but he doesn't make any move to deny her.

"Kate," he murmurs, his hand migrating to her hair, submerging in the locks. His palm cradles her skull, but his fingers twist through the mess of waves.

"Hmm?" She grazes her lips to the stubble of his jaw, lingers there.

"I - I think you know how badly I want you." Her insides quiver with heat, wanting of her own. She doesn't think he truly understands how mutual it is, how it always has been. How much she's wanted him, how long. "So, if you need more time, I understand, but-"

She straightens in his lap. "No, I - no more time. No more waiting."

Kate drapes her palms at the sides of his throat, feels the race of his pulse beneath the heels of her hands. He's watching her with eyes that are liquid with arousal, pools of midnight blue. It isn't an unfamiliar look, one she's been on the receiving end of many times in the last few weeks. It spills fire through her insides every time.

"All I could think about after therapy today was how much better I've been feeling," she murmurs, feeling his throat work through a swallow beneath her fingers. "How ready."

"Yeah?" he asks, the heat in his gaze still present, but the spread of his lips is soft, proud.

"Yeah, and now, after today, after spending the last few hours thinking about my mom, my shooting, everything that comes with it, I'm sure about what I want." His head tilts in question, as if the answer isn't obvious. She sighs, brushes her thumb along his bottom lip. "I just want you, Castle. Everything else is secondary."

Disbelief flashes through his eyes, spreading through his features, before the love he so proudly wears for her these days follows, settles in. She leans forward, presses her lips to his smile, feels the hand at her waist squeeze. And then he's wrapping both arms around her in an embrace, hugging her so tight that she forgets about the scars marring her skin, stretched taut beneath the pressure.

He loosens his hold as they part for breath, his head falling to her shoulder and his lips skating along the exposed edge of her collarbone. She furrows her fingers through his hair, bridges them at his nape as his head lifts.

"Kate, I don't want you to feel like it's an ultimatum. That wasn't what I was trying to say earlier, I just-"

"I know you weren't," she nods, easing back with her hands slipping to catch on the fabric of his shirt. "But I do have to choose. That's - it's actually one of the things Alexis and I talked about." Her eyes descend to the safe zone of his chin. "We all know that until the Dragon is slain, my connection to my mother's case is elastic. It'll always come back to me and I'll never let it go." She risks a glance at him, but he doesn't look disappointed. He listens with rapt attention, with knowledge and understanding, but no judgement. "But I can pick and choose my battles, choose to put other things first, stop trying to - to die for my cause."

Guilt flashes across his face.

"Kate-"

"I don't want to die, Castle. I don't want anyone I care about to die. Not because of this." She shakes her head, shuts her eyes for a moment. "If I lose anyone else to this, if I lost you-"

"Okay," he quiets her, clutching the back of her neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nods, peels her eyes open to find him staring back at her with concern. But she doesn't want that look, she wants the arousal back in his gaze, wants to see the need she feels churning through the pit of her stomach reflected there.

"I told Alexis I would always choose you," she reveals, watching the result of that statement ripple through his features, his jaw falling slack. "And I meant it."

Castle squeezes her neck once more before he rises to kiss her, sealing his mouth to hers for the first time in a week.

"Say it again," he mumbles, his lips tripping against hers with the words. She has to blink to comprehend them, to think past the sparks of electricity spreading from where he touches her.

"Which part, Castle? I said a lot in the last few minutes," she mutters, catching his bottom lip between her teeth. She just poured her heart out to him, left it strewn all over his lap and the kitchen table; she doesn't have it in her to say any more.

He growls and she wonders if he's figured out in this past month just how much that sound turns her on. He must have, because he's grinning as she shifts in his lap, rubs her thighs together to alleviate the growing need for friction.

He chuckles and she squirms against him for it, wiggles her ass in his lap. His fingers clench hard enough to bruise around her hipbone, the moan in his throat low and slipping free.

Castle strays from her mouth to paint his lips along her jaw, teasing her with the brushstrokes of his tongue. He pauses when his lips reach her ear.

"The best part."

It only takes her a moment to figure it out, to remember.

She hums. "I love you?"

His lips part over the taut skin below her jaw, tongue laving hard, teeth scraping flesh. Kate bows forward, curls her fingers around his ears.

"Again."

She huffs at the rumble of words against her throat, rises from his lap to ease one leg over his thighs. He growls again, in approval this time, and nuzzles his way down her throat. Her heart is fluttering in her chest, tickling beneath the healed tissue of her scar, wings beating fast when his hands slide beneath her shirt, converge at the small of her back.

His palms are broad, spanning the base of her spine and branding her flesh. The moan builds in her throat, escapes past her lips in a whimper as her hips roll forward.

"I love you."

His nose nudges the top button of her shirt, the disc sliding free, and then his mouth is traipsing down the bones of her sternum, finding home between her breasts. She gasps, clutches his shoulders at the heat of his breath staining the puckered flesh of her bullet wound.

He draws back to see the spot, one of his hands slipping from her back, glancing along her ribs to locate her incision scar.

"Do they hurt at all?" His voice is a husk, his eyes riveted to the gunshot's entry wound. His thumb sweeps along the scar between her ribs, where the scalpel sliced her open and gloved hands dug inside her. She almost expects the ghost of pain to flare, but there's nothing but heat beneath his fingertips.

"No," she whispers, lowering one of her hands to collide with his at her side. She guides their tangled fingers from beneath her shirt, drags his hand up to rest between her breasts, and cradles the pressure of his fingers there with hers.

Castle lifts his head, tilts forward just enough to dust his lips over her mouth. She sighs at the caress of his mouth, squeezes his fingers once before letting go to stroke hers down his cheek. He kisses her slow, gentle, such an aching tenderness that overwhelms her, makes his hand at her chest the only thing keeping her heart from bursting free.

"Castle." His lashes rise, nearly graze hers in their ascent. She's never been this close before and yet, somehow, she still doesn't feel close enough, still wants so much more. "I love you."

He looks mesmerized, intoxicated, but so sharp with need. Her thighs squeeze at his hips.

"Now take me to bed."


	15. Chapter 15

They don't sleep. Not that he planned to.

It's his first night with Kate Beckett, his first chance to truly adore every inch of her body. His hands, his mouth, her skin - he touches everything and he takes his time.

They don't sleep, but he still emerges from an hour of dozing when the sun breaches the horizon, sending light spilling through her bedroom. Kate is fast asleep beside him, lashes kissing her cheeks, fingers curled at his bicep, and her lips at his shoulder. The sun is rising at her back, spilling gold through her hair, across the naked length of her spine.

Rick turns his head to brush a kiss between her brows, his eyes falling closed as he inhales the scent of her skin. The mixture of her shampoo and that cherry lotion she wears, the glorious combination of sweat and sex that still clings to her.

He sighs, shifts ever so slightly towards the edge of the bed. He'll return in a few minutes with coffee, rouse her with the smell, or perhaps with the trail of his mouth down the perfect bow of her spine. He has a feeling she'd be receptive to either option.

Castle tiptoes out of her room, into the kitchen, and sets the coffee to brew. He casts his gaze to the sunrise happening outside while he waits. It's on perfect display through the glass screen of the backdoor, shimmering through the trees and reflecting across the water. He adores this place in the mornings, but after a night of seeing stars with Kate, daybreak feels all the more magical.

Rick abandons the coffeemaker in the kitchen, hesitates on his way to the door. He wants to wake Kate, draw her out of bed to venture outside with him, enjoy the view. But he kept her up late last night, put her body through plenty of strenuous activity, and plans to continue keeping her busy throughout the morning. She may have made great strides in physical therapy, she may be practically healed, but he doesn't want to push the boundaries of her body too far.

Yeah, she needs her rest.

Castle proceeds to the glass door alone and slips through the back entrance. The air is warming, but the chill of night still lingers, prolonging the heat, the layer of humidity. He forgoes the idea of grabbing his shoes, follows the flat rocks Jim has arranged as a short path from the house to the dock above the lake. The dew that clings to the grass licks at his bare feet, the moisture bleeding through the wood of the dock cool beneath his soles.

He pauses at the edge, exhales as he looks across the water. He's shirtless, wearing nothing but the boxers he stepped into as he abandoned her bed. The gentle breeze sweeps across his shoulders, caresses the bare skin of his chest. It makes the crescent marks she left with her nails, the swells of reds and purples from her mouth, come alive across his skin, bloom with warmth. He explored her body thoroughly, but she didn't hesitate to do the same.

Rick's lips curl, his blood heating. He came out here for a peaceful moment amidst the breach of day, to appreciate the beauty of the sunrise, but he already wants her again.

He doesn't expect that to dull any time soon.

God, how is he supposed to leave here without her? How is he supposed to leave at all? He didn't plan to visit this weekend in the first place, texting Alexis to let her know at the last minute, but the idea of leaving now is almost painful. The drive back home, the days spent alone, his empty bed in the city - it all holds no appeal without her.

The feather of lips along his shoulder blade, the splay of palms at his sides, steals his attention.

Rick's hand drifts backwards, fingers skimming the bare edge of her thigh.

"Feeling okay?" he murmurs, feeling the brush of her nose at the tip of his spine as she nods, the vibration of her throat as she hums in affirmation.

"What're you doing out here?" Kate rasps at his back, her breath hot and skittering across his flesh. Castle claims a better grip on her thigh, wrapping his fingers at her flank. His arm brushes fabric and he glances over his shoulder, taking in the sight of her tousled hair, eyes that are still heavy with sleep, and the way his shirt from yesterday drapes over her body.

"I was awake, got up to make you coffee. I wanted to watch the sunrise before I brought you a cup," he explains, his thumb flirting with the curve of her ass. Her fingers drift from his ribs, meander down to tease along the waistband of his boxers in retaliation. Castle grunts, catches one of her wandering hands and pins her palm just below his navel. "I was gonna wake you, but I figured you needed the sleep."

Kate hums, her lips quirking at his back. "You're right, but you're spoiling me, Castle."

He shifts to see her a little better, his hand regretfully leaving the length of her hamstring to rest at her hip instead. With his body in front of her, she leans into the wall of his chest, wedges one of her knees between his, every part of her seeking.

He's never imagined Kate as one to crave the physical contact. He actually worried he would drive her crazy this past month, finally being able to indulge the urge to touch her. He feared that her independence was too strong, that he was too needy and would smother her without even trying. But she hasn't turned away his desire for close proximity, the sometimes restless caress of his hands and occasional wander of his mouth. If anything, she's embraced his need to touch, sought it out.

"What do you mean?"

She rises on her toes, laces her arms around his neck, and looks up at him. Her lips are still in a smile, but her eyes are brightening like the sun now ascending over his shoulder. "I was never really a fan of sharing my bed before. Now I sleep better with you in it."

His heart leaps.

"Not a fan of waking up without you in it either," she mumbles, brushing her lips to his throat, grazing her teeth along his jaw.

Rick's eyes flutter as his blood warms, simmers beneath her mouth.

"You're making the idea of leaving even more unappealing, Beckett," he sighs, swallowing to stop the shiver that threatens to dive down his spine. Her hands are moving, drifting down to his chest, one palm falling to spread over the wild muscle of his heart.

Her eyes follow and her fingers curl, as if she's trying to capture the beat beneath her hand.

"What if I just… went home with you today?"

For a moment, everything quiets. The frogs near the water fall silent, the lap of water mutes, his lungs pause, halting the whisper of his breathing.

She wants to go home with him.

Kate bites her lip, maintains eye contact with the seal of her hand on his chest. "My dad's cabin was the best place for me to recover and having you here so often… it's helped, Castle. But I want to go home."

"With me?" he repeats before he can think better of it.

Her cheeks gain a touch of color, but she shrugs. "Well, you are part of 'home', so yeah."

Castle's hands tighten on her hips before releasing, his fingertips spreading like wings across her waist. "And you feel ready for that? For everything that comes with it?"

She swallows and lifts her gaze to meet his. He expects a hint of doubt, a flicker of fear, but her eyes blaze gold with resolution, with that same look she wore last night before she told him that he was all she wanted.

"Together," she murmurs. "The case, the new captain, the deal with Smith - we do all of that together."

"Of course," he nods without hesitation, feeling her chest brush against his with the breath she inhales.

"As for you and me…" Kate's hand scales his sternum to curl at his jaw. Her thumb strokes his cheek, the corner of his mouth. The smile she gives him is soft, adoring, and even after the last few weeks, he doesn't think she's ever looked at him like this. So in love with him, so happy about it. He can't help catching her hand, holding it there to press a kiss to her palm. "I'm ready for all that comes with us too."

Her fingers slip to trail down his neck as he leans forward to kiss her. Castle draws her closer with the splay of his hands across her spine, a moan building in his throat as their hipbones brush and the fabric of his stolen shirt flirts with the bare skin of his stomach.

Her thumb grazes over the sensitive spot she discovered below his jaw and she hums as he sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. He scrapes with his teeth, soothes with his tongue, learning last night just how much she enjoys the contrast, and slides his hands beneath the shirt.

Her spine arches, fitting her upper body tight and wonderful against his. She hooks her leg around his thigh, breathes that soft little moan, that gorgeous sound he can't get enough of, lighting a match of need that burns straight to his groin.

Castle parts from her mouth, knocks his forehead into hers while he tries to catch his breath, and cradles her face in his hands.

"I love you, Kate."

She grins against his mouth, nuzzles her nose to his cheek. "I love you too." His heart still flutters at the flow of those words past her lips, still can't believe they're for him. "But I made you a promise."

His brow creases and he glances down in question, but Kate is already planting her hands flat to his chest, applying pressure.

Realization comes too late.

He tries to grab for her, to find a grip, but she's already shoving him backwards, pushing him off the dock and into the lake.

He barely has the time to yelp.

Castle goes into the water with a loud splash, sinking deep until his feet land in the floor of mud and he can push back to the surface. She's laughing as he emerges, leaning over the edge of the dock with that brilliant smile, mischief and affection dancing in her gaze. He can't help smiling back up at her like an idiot as he blinks the water from his eyes.

"I can't believe you used that beautiful moment to trick me."

She rolls her eyes, descends to her knees as he wades forward. The water isn't deep, barely up to his chest, and the dock is only a foot higher, an easy height for him to fold his arms atop the edge. Kate combs her fingers through his dripping hair, brushes it back from his forehead.

"Sorry, babe," she smirks, trailing her thumb along one of his eyebrows before pulling her hand back. His grin widens; she just called him _babe_. "If this is my last day here, I had to seize the opportunity."

"I give you points for turning it into such a good sneak attack. I've been on edge all summer wondering when you were finally going to push me in."

"Yeah, well, no more waiting," she murmurs, the truth of it flashing through her features.

"No," he concurs, reaching out to trail his fingertips along her outer thigh. He hooks his fingers behind her knee and brushes his thumb along her patella. Kate is already watching him when he glances up to see her, holds her gaze. "Only question now is whether you're going to join me or not."

Her eyes sparkle and she stands. Her fingers flick along the three buttons of the shirt that were slipped into place, parting the fabric in seconds. Her shoulders roll and the dress shirt he wore to the book signing yesterday morning slides from her skin, revealing the naked length of her body bathed in the morning glow of sunlight.

He forgets to breathe.

Kate smiles down at him, tilts her head for him to move. He pushes back from the dock, gives her some space, and floats a few feet away to watch. The sun is spreading gold across her skin now, beams twining through her hair. She looks like warmth and joy, unabashed and confident. He can't help marveling over her, over all that has changed within the last couple of months. How she no longer hides her scars or herself from him, how much work she has put in to healing her body, how willing she is to let him have her heart.

How there is no struggle anymore, no current to fight against.

"I'm ready to swim, Castle."

He believes her.

She dives in.


End file.
